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THE 



COURT OF MPOLEOiN 



SOCIETY UNDER THE FIRST EMPIRE 



UxtxmU of its ^^cEuties With aiiir Jtroiius 



KROM AUTKKNTIC ORIGINALS. 



BY FRANK B . '^ D R I C H . 



ILLUSTRATED BY JULES CHAMPAGNE. 



NEW YORK: 
DEEBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU STEEET 

CINCINNATI:— H. W. DERBY & Co. 

M D CCC LVII. 




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EsTEKED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S56, by 

FRANK B. GOODRICH, 

In tlie Clerli's Office of the District Court of the United States, for tlw Southern District of New Yorli. 



W. H. TINSON, STEREOTYPER, GEORGE KOSSELL & CO., PRINTERS, JAMES SOltERVILLE, BiNDER, 

24 Beekmnn St., N. Y. 61 Bpebnian St., N. Y. 20 Nortli William St., N. Y. 



PREFACE. 



ALTHOUGH numerous volumes have been wtten 
Xl_ upon Napoleon in this country, there is none whose 
pm-pose is to give a general view of his influence upon 
society. His career has been regarded as exclusively 
military and political, and to these topics historians and 
essayists have principally directed their labors. Nor has 
there been, even in France, a methodical treatise, present- 
ing a delineation of manners and morals under the Empire, 
at the same time tracing their connection with the court, 
and noting the effect produced by the Emperor and his 
system upon the society he had created. It is the object, 
therefore, of this volume to fill an obvious void, and thus 
to supply a practical test of the character and influence of 
Napoleon I. 



IV PREFACE. 

The name and fame of Napoleon have long since ceased 
in America to be connected with party interests or associa- 
tions. Even the romance with which an inherent hero- 
worship has led us to invest his career, is visibly yielding 
to a scrutinizing cmiosity which demands unadorned reality 
in place of sentimental fiction. This tendency is aided 
and accelerated by the contemplation of events now pass- 
ing in France, where we see a new empire founded upon 
the souvenirs of the preceding one, and professing to be 
conceived in its image. To appreciate the present, it is 
essential to miderstand the past. 

In giving to the public, therefore, the present volume, 
though it forms a part of the design of the publishers to 
offer a tasteful example of art, in the various departments 
cooperating in the production of books, it is still the pur- 
pose, or at least the hope, of the author, to contiibute 
something to the philosophy of history, in that portion of it 
which he has ti'cated. It does not enter into his plan to 
record the battles and the conquests of the Emperor, nor to 
describe his foreign policy or his domestic administration. 
It has been his simple pm-pose to represent him at home, in 
his court, and amongst his people ; to chi'onicle his influence 
upon morals, manners, religion, art, science, literature — the 
fountains of public life and the basis of national character. 



TREFAUE. V 

Impartiality is the first requisite in a work of this descrip- 
tion, and the author has acted throughout under this con- 
viction. That he has always fulfilled his design can hardly 
be assimied, though it is believed that every assertion of 
sufficient importance to require it, has been substantiated 
by adequate reference. The critical reader will thus be 
able to test the accuracy of the representations made. 
This has been deemed the more necessary, as many topics 
are presented in a light somewhat different from that 
thrown upon them by popular opinion in this country. 

The author may be permitted to add, that while he has 
thus carefully based his work upon authority, he has still 
further verified the views therein expressed, by personal 
observations made during a residence of eight years in 
France, and that under circumstances which permitted him 
to become acquainted with the opinions entertained by the 
French people themselves upon the subjects referred to. 
This experience has been in many cases of more value 
than a library of biographies. 

The engravings accompanying these pages are offered 
as representatives, both in drawing and color, of the best 
existing portraits of the celebrated women whose features 
they perpetuate. The originals, the greater part by Gerard, 



vi PEEFACE. 

the others by David, Ary Scheffer, &c., belong principally 
to the Historical Gallery of Versailles, and offer, therefore, 
indisputable guarantees of authenticity. It is hoped, con- 
sequently, that the illustrations may be regarded as possess- 
ing a certain historical value in addition to the mechanical 
beauty which the laborious and skillful artist has sought 
to bestow upon them. 

"With these remarks the author and publishers submit 
" The Court of Fapoleon " to the candid judgment of the 
American public. 

NEW YORK, October, 1856. 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER I. 

The Women of the Revolution — The Girondines and the Scaffold— Theroigne de Merieourt and 
the Mountain — Madame Tallien and Josephine — Napoleon as the Reformer of Society, . 11 



CHAPTER II. 

Lucile Duplessis and Camille Desmoulins — Jesus Christ the Sans-culotte — Lucile's Prayer — Her 
Death and Character— Charlotte Corday — Her Journey to Paris — Her Arrest, Trial, and Exe- 
cution — Her fifteen Portraits — Her Character as judged by History, . . . .21 



CHAPTER III. 

The Furies of the Guillotine — The first Sans-culottes — Theroigne de Merieourt — An Amazon at 
the Invalides — Her Address to the Club des CordeUers — A RoyaUst Caricature — Olympe de 
Gouges — Madame Roland — Her Precocity — ^Her Marriage and Removal to Paris — Her Asso- 
ciation with the Girondins — ^Her Arrest and Condemnation, 34 



CHAPTER IV. 

Society under the Directory — Divorce — Burial of the Dead — Dancing Gardens — Frascati and 
Xivoli — Supremacy of Matter — National Bankruptcy — Famine — Two Milhon Francs for a 
Waistcoat — The Cascade of Discredit — Voltaire's God-daughter in Danger of Starving — 
Pamphlets, Caricatures and Fans, 50 

CHAPTER V. 

Fashions of the Terror and Directory — Classic Nudities — Iphigenia and the Vestal Virgins in 
Paris — Fatal Consequences — Cravats, Smallclothes, and a new Pronunciation — Magazines of 
Fashion, .62 



•viii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Theresia Cabarrus — Her Marriage •with JI. de Fontenay — Tallien at Bordeaux — The Pro-Consul 
exercises Clemency — Theresia and Josephine in Prison together — Their Signatures still visible 
upon the Walls — The Fall of Kobespierre — Josephine's Letter to Madame Tallien — Barras and 
Josephine — The Anecdote of Sempronia — The Green Dominos — Rose Thermidor — PubUe 
Disapprobation, ............... 68 

CHAPTER VII. 

France prepared for a social Change — Bonaparte lands at Frejus — Is hailed as a Dehrerer from 
Anarchy — A Deputy dies of sudden Joy — Bonaparte arrives at Paris — The Purpose of this 
Volume, 81 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Revival of Manners — Bonaparte urges his Officers to Marry — An Invasion of new Faces 
— The first Ladies of Honor — ^The Households of Josephine, of Bonaparte, his Mother and 
Sisters — The First Reception at the Tuileries — The consular Court estabhshed — The Fashions 
of the Period, 85 

CHAPTER IX. 

ReUgion during the Revolution — Napoleon a Mahometan in Egypt, a Catholic in France — The 
Concordat and the Te Deum — Eighty Ladies present at the Ceremony — A disrespectful Au- 
dience — Epigrams — The Curate of St. Roch and the Danseuse — The Clergy are refractory — 
Mass at St. Cloud — The Restoration of the Saints to the Calendar, 95 

CHAPTER S. 

A Courtship and Marriage under Bonaparte — General Junot and M'lle de Permon — The Offer — 
Consultation with Bonaparte — A singular Obstacle — The Trousseau and CorbeiUe — The Bride's 
Toilet — The Ceremony — Bonaparte wagers with Josephine upon the sex of the First-Born — 
The Baptism of M'Ue Junot 106 

CHAPTER XI. 

An Evening at Madame Recamier s — The Company — The Programme — Talma as Othello — A 
Gavotte rehearsed — The Wild Boy of the Aveyron — A rustic Wedding — An amateur Per- 
formance by Madame de Stael — A Midnight Supper — A Sentiment by the Prussian Ambas- 
sador, 117 

CHAPTER XII. 

Bonaparte projects the Legion of Honor — The first Conversation concerning it — The Argument 
and the A'ote — Epigrams and counterfeit Decorations— The Artists, Scientific and Literary 
Men admitted — Lafayette — The Grand Eagle— Goethe — Young Lafayette — Picard, Talma and 
Crescentini — Madame de GenUs — Hubert Goffin — Caricatures — The Effisct of the Order upon 
Society, 123 



CONTEISTS. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



The Empire proclaimed — Attitude of the People— Jests upon the rapid Fortunes of the Bona- 
partes — The Clamor for Office — Bonapartists, Bourbons and Jacobins — Mock Receptions — 
Napoleon's Irritation — Brunei and Napoleon's Bust — The Court Journal — Extravagance, 1 38 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Madame Recamier — Description of her Personal Appearance — Her Character — Fouohe's Propo- 
sal — CaroUne Bonaparte an Accomplice — Madame Recaraier's Banishment — Her Wanderings 
in England, Italy and Switzerland — The Prince of Prussia and the Duke of Wellington in 
love with her — Canova's Bust of Dante's Beatrice — The Inconsistencies in her Character- 
Napoleon's Rejection of the Cooperation of Women, 144 



CHAPTER XV. 

The Code of Etiquette — The Grand Marshal — Governors of the Palaces — Prefects — Chamber- 
lains — Grand Master of the Horse — The Pages — The Aids-de-Camp — Grand Master of Cere- 
monies — The Palace of the Tuileries — Its Divisions and Apartments — Meals — Punctilio at 
Table — ^Napoleon's Opinion on Eating in Public, . ISY 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The Members of Napoleon's Imperial Household — The Almoners; Chamberlains; Marshals; 
Masters of the Horse and Hounds ; Intendants ; Physicians ; Surgeons — The Subordinate 
Service — ^Napoleon's Fondness for Etiquette — Its Consequences, 168 



CHAPTER XVII. 

The Household of the Empress Josephine — Prmce Ferdinand de Rohan — General Nansouty — 
The Duchess d'Aiguillon — Madame de Larochefoucauld — Madame de Ijavalette — Madame 
Gazani — M'lle Avrillon — Georgette Ducrest — The Pages, Ushers, Valets, Footmen — Joseph- 
ine's Extravagance and consequent Quarrels with Napoleon — Talleyrand and Bourrienne 
the Mediators between them — The Beauties of the Court — The Household of Madame 
Mere, IVS 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Pauline Bonaparte — Her early Loves — Her Marriage with General Leclerc — ^The Expedition to St. 
Domingo — The Widow's Weeds — Don Camillo Borghese — Extraordinary Scene at St. Cloud 
— The Statue of Venus Victorious — Pauline's Household at Neuilly — Her Receptions — Her 
Sedan Chair — Her Taste in Dress — M. Jules de Canouville — Pauline's Impertinence to Marie 
Louise — Her Banishment — Her Visit to Napoleon at Elba — Her Appeal to Lord Liverpool — 
Her Death at Florence, 187 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XIX. 



Literature under Napoleon — Oriani and Corneille — Bernardin de St. Pierre — Chenier — Delille — 
Chateaubriand — Madame de Stael — The Institute — Napoleon's farorite Authors — His Treat- 
ment of Literary Men — The Censorship — Ducis — Lemercier — Encouragement extended to 
Literature and the Sciences — Non-bestowal of the Awards — Liberty of the Press — An Apol- 
ogy for the Penury of Letters under Napoleon — Literature under Napoleon III., . . 208 

CHAPTER XX. 

Madame de Stael — Hor Infancy and Education — Her M.arriage — Her Personal Appearance — 
The Revolution — Her First Meeting and Conyersation with Bonaparte — Interview with 
Josephine — Her Portrait and Character — Her Repartees — Exile — Delphine — Auguste de Stael 
and Napoleon — Private Theatricals — Corinne — Police Interference — Travels in Foreign Coun- 
tries — Her Illness and Death — Effect of Napoleon's Persecution upon the Literary Position 
of Madame de Stael, 224 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Liberty of the Press — The Moniteur — Official Bulletins — Registry of Marriages — Suppression of 
Newspapers — The British Press — Control of Pubhc Opinion — Mutilated Editions of the Clas- 
sics — Dramatic Censorship — Edward in Scotland— La.x Criticism — Josephine and Cadet-Rous- 
sel — Violation of the Mails — The Dark Closet — Napoleon's Correspondents — Napoleon and 
Public Opinion, ... .......... 243 

CHAPTER XXn. 

Elisa Bonaparte — Her Marriage and Residence at Paris — Her Government of Lucca — Baron 
Capelle — Paganini — Elisa in Tuscany — Her Exile and Death — Caroline Bonaparte — Her Mar- 
riage with Murat — Her Portrait — Intrigue with General Junot — Murat's Military Dress — 
The Throne of Naples — Carohne's Exile and Death, 259 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Science under Napoleon — Tlie Institute — Speculation and Theory — Progress of Physical Sci- 
ence — Mathematics — Chemistry applied to the Arts — Chaptal, Cuvier, Jussieu, GeofFro}' St. 
Hilaire, Volta, Fulton — The Gregorian Calendar restored — The RepubUcan Tear — The Deci- 
mal System — Dr. Gall — Slaelzel's Automaton — The Comet of 1811 — ^Napoleon's Influence upon 
Science, , . 2*72 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Hortense de Beauharnais — Her Education — Talent for Amateur Theatricals — Calumny — A Ma- 
niac Lover — Duroc — Louis Bonaparte — OfiBcial Poetry — The Throne of Holland — Death of 
Napoleon-Charles — Birtli of Louis Napoleon and de Morny — Hortense at Aix ; at Malmaison; 
at the Court of Louis XTIII. — The Return of Napoleon— The Necklace — Chateau of Arenen- 
berg — ^Death and Will of Queen Hortense — Education and Life of de Morny — Modern French 
Biography, 282 



CONTENTS. xi 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Tlie Art of Painting under Louis XIV. — Watteau — Painting under Louis XV. — Bouclier — Napo- 
leon and David — Tlie Picture of tlie Coronation — Cardinal Caprara and his ^V''ig — Tlie Portrait 
of Napoleon and the Marquis of Douglas — David's Coat of Arms — Gerard — Girodet — Guerin 
— Isabey— Gros— The Plague of Jaffa— Napoleon and Desgenottes — Gericault — Tlie Spolia- 
tion of Italy — Foreign Works of Art at the Louvre — Their Restoration by the Allies — Sculp- 
ture under Napoleon — Canova at Paris — His Interview with Napoleon — Houdon — Chaudet — 
Music during the Empire — Mehul — Lesueur — Boieldieu — Spontini — Cherubini-- Napoleon's 
Influence upon Art, 297 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Astrology during the Empire — M'lle Lenormand — Her first Prophecy — Her Education and Choice 
of Studies — Predictions made to Mirabeau, M'lle Montansier, Bernadotte, Murat, Robespierre, 
St. Just — The Horoscope of Josephine — Napoleon — M'lle Lenormand's Cabinet of Consultation 
— Her Prediction to Madame de Stael — Her Arrest, Interrogatory and Release — Predictions 
to Horace Vernet, Potier, Alexander and Von Malchus — Her Adventures in Brussels — Her 
Works — Her Death and Character — Her Faith in her own Powers — The Processes to which 
she had Recourse — Hermann the Soothsayer — An Intrigue at the Tuileries, . . .318 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Napoleon's Early Loves — M'lle du Colombier — M'lle Eugenie Clary — Madame de Permon — 
Josephine — Her Education and First Marriage — Separation from her Husband — Josephine and 
Barras — Josephine's Marriage with Napoleon^The Honeymoon at Milan — M. Charles — Bona- 
parte's return from Egypt — His quarrel and reconciliation with Josephine — The conduct of 
the latter during the Consulate — Her Jealousies — Her proposal to resort to a Political Fraud 
— The Divorce — Josephine at Malmaison and Navarre — Her Death — Misapprehensions in 
regard to her Character — Reasons for this Misapprehension — French views of Private Charac- 
ter — Marie Louise — Her Youth and Education — The Overtures of Napoleon — A Marriage by 
proxy — Journey to Paris — Proceedings upon the Bavarian Frontier — The first interview of 
Napoleon and Marie Louise — The Marriage — Organization of the Household — Adventures of 
M. Biennais, M. Paer, and M. Leroy — Birth of the King of Rome — The Russian Campaign — 
The Treaty of Fontainebleau — Marie Louise at Blois — Her life at Parma — The Count de Neip- 
perg — Death of Marie Louise — Napoleon's Ignorance of her Conduct, .... 334 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Napoleon's Manners towards Women — Grace IngersoU, the Belle of New Haven — Her Marriage 
and Transfer to the Court of the Tuileries — Her Presentation to Napoleon — His Amiable 
Speech — Death of Grace IngersoU — Her Two Daughters — Madame de Chevreuse — Her Epi- 
grams and Smart Speeches — Her Persecution by Napoleon — Her Exile and Death — The Jour- 
ney to Cythera — Napoleon appointed Doorkeeper — Madame Charpentier — A Scene in the 
Gallery of Diana — Madame Foures — Her Connection with Napoleon — Her Divorce and 
Second Marriage — Napoleon's Estimate of Women — His Opinions upon Love — " How many 
Children have you?" — Perpetual Vows — Madame Regnault de St. Jean d'Angely — Napoleon's 
Speech to her — Her Reply — Napoleon expresses Regret at St. Helena, . . . 366 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER X5IX. 



The Drama under Napoleon — Imperial Patronage of Actors — The Decree of Moscow — Epigrams 
upon this Decree — Talma — His Education and early Tastes — His First Appearance — Charles 
IX.— Talma a Girondin— Talma and Napoleon— Character of Talma's Genius— Criticisms of 
the Emperor — Talma at Erfurth — His Letter to John Kemble— His two Marriages — His 

Death Lafon — Fleury — St. Pri.\— M'Ue Mars — Character of her Talent— The Mysterious 

Ring Political Constancy of M'Ue Mars — M'Ue Duchesnois — M'lle Georges — Circumstances 

attending her Birth — Her Infant Performances — Her First Appearance — Stage Riots — M'lle 
Georges and Lucien Bonaparte— M'lle Georges and Napoleon— She Visits St. Petersburg, 
Stockholm and Dresden — The Romantic School of Modern Dramatic Literature, . . 883 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Features of Society under Napoleon — My.itification : the Princess Dolgoroucky and the Insti- 
tute Cafes under the Empire — Gastronomy — Conversation- Effect of Official Eulogy upon 

the French Language— Afi'ectation and Exaggeration— The Soldier in Society — Epigrams, 
Jests and Libels— Moreau and the Legion of Honor — Napoleon's Mother and the Pope 
nicknamed — ^Napoleon and the Beet-root — Puns at the expense of Marie Louise — Desertion 

of Napoleon The Race of Apostasy — Adhesion and Renunciation — The allied Sovereigns 

at the Theatre — Defection in the Army — Napoleon's Fall hailed as a Deliverance — Con- 
elusion, *05 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



JOSEPHINE, . FEONTISriEOE. 

MAEIE LOUISE, t ■ • ""tle. 

CHARLOTTE COKDAY, to face page 30 

MADAME ROLAND, 47 

MADAME TALLIEN, 79 

MADAME JUNOT, 114 

MADAME REOAMIER, 145 

PAULINE BONAPARTE, 190 

MADAME DE STAEL, 233 

CAROLINE BONAPARTE, 266 

HORTENSE, 283 

M'LLE LENORMAND, 320 

M'LLE DU COLOMBIER, 338 

GRACE INGERSOLL, 867 

MADAME REGNAULT, 381 

M'LLE GEORGES, 402 



THE COURT OF lAPOLEON. 



THE 



COURT OF NAPOLEON ; 



SOCIETY IWDER THE FIRST EMPmE. 



CHAPTER I. 

The Women of the Revolution — The Girondines and the Scaft'old — Theroigne de Mericourt and 
the Mountain — Madame Tallien and Josephine — Napoleon as the Reformer of Society. 

THE women of the episodic period in French history, which 
reaches from the destruction of the Bastille, in 1789, to the 
landing of Bonaparte at Prejus, in 1799, were, beyond aU contro- 
versy, the most extraordinary race since Cornelia and the Spartan 
mother, on the one hand, or since the Amazons and the Eume- 
nides on the other. The annals of no nation, certainly not those 
of any other period of anarchy and dismemberment, present such 
a pictui-e of female influence, heroism, and virtue, and at the 
same time, of female excess, violence, and infamy, as those of the 
Revolution, Terror, and Directory. 

Marie Antoinette and the Duchess de Polignac had introduced 
and commenced the era of feminine ascendency : they controlled 
the court, the camp, and the city. Lafayette, on his return from 
the War of American Independence, received a more enthusiastic 



18 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

welcome from the ladies of Paris than from the soldiers of the 
Champ de Mars. The miUiners composed caps a la Lafayette, and 
tunics a la d'Estaing, to occupy and satisfy this feminine revolu- 
tionary effervescence. Madame Helvetius, vfho was "so happy 
with three acres of land," and at whose house Frankhn had been 
so intimate, Madame de Genlis and the Marquise de Condorcet 
made their parlors the rendezvous of the disaffected and the 
enthusiasts of the epoch, guiding their speech, moulding their 
opinions, directing their acts. The F@te of the Federation, the 
preparations for which 12,000 workmen could not accomplish in 
time, was successful only through the eager cooperation of the 
women of Paris : danseuse and dairymaid, bayadere and benedic- 
tine, labored together with wheelbarrow and spade. Necker, the 
Minister of Finance, was so openly assisted by his wife that he 
was popularly called Necker the Hermaphrodite. 

Then, a year or two later, what lustre was lent to martyrdom, 
what grace was shed upon the pillory and the scaffold, what glory 
was derived even from ignominy by the modest heroism of the 
subhme, yet unconscious Girondines ! Charlotte Corday — illu- 
mined, if not inspired — the protest and the vengeance of outraged 
humanity ; Madame Roland, the sententious philosopher and dis- 
creet lawgiver of the Revolution ; Lucile DesmouUns, amiable, 
lovely, and yet undaunted: three women, rare, even had they 
been isolated and consecutive, and trebly admirable in their joint 
and contemporaneous glories ! From the upas and cypress which 
encompassed their death and shadowed their graves, history has 
woven them a crown of laurel and a wreath of amaranth. 

Theroigne de Mericourt, acting under a poignant sense of 
personal wrong, did as much to exasperate and embitter the hos- 
tihty of the plebeians to the aristocracy, as did Danton : her 
eloquence was as persuasive as that of Mirabeau. Olympe de 
Gouges had no rival in either sex for club oratory or pamphlet 
satire. Then, altogether at the other extreme, were the Women 
of the Mountain, who, with grotesque and hideous energy, with 



MADAME TALLIEN AND JOSEPHINE. 19 

squalid and ruthless turbulence, spread menace and consternation 
from Yincennes to Versailles. They made the Mountain a French 
Sinai, which issued its decrees of eternal justice amid the thun- 
ders of their applause, and the reverberations of their riotous 
vivats.-' 

Later still : To whom does France owe the fall of Robespierre 
and the cessation of the Terror ? To a woman, Madame Tallien, 
the voluptuous and enchanting Andalusian. To whom does his- 
tory owe the first link in the chain of events that led to Napoleon 
Bonaparte ? To a woman, Josephine de Beauharnais, the gentle 
and seductive Creole. Upon another field, and in another sphere, 
other women were at the same moment acquiring humbler fame, 
by courage in battle or devotion in the ambulance. Local chroni- 
cle still cherishes, however national history may have forgotten 
it, the intrepidity of Liberte Barreau, the charity of Rose Bouil- 
lon, and the patriotism of F^licit^ and Theophile Fernig. 

A late writer thus speaks of this singular inversion of society, 
referring in the passage quoted to the state of things under the 
Directory, just previous to Napoleon : " No age can show a more 
conspicuous example of the fall and annihilation of man, and of 
the triumph, the publicity, and influence of woman. Never did 
woman so occupy the pubhc gaze ; never did she so openly mix 
in the conduct of the nation's affairs. Women controlled the 
choice of generals ; they bespoke for them success or reverse, and 
had their reputation made to order. Not only was public opinion 
submissive to their behests^ — not only was their written recom- 
mendation virtually a patent of impunity — but they pilfered the 
keys of the treasury from the girdle of the sleeping guardians, 
and they guided the pens of those who awarded plethoric con- 
tracts, and who fingered sealed proposals."^ 

It is essential to study and understand this period, before 
it is possible to present an intelligible view of Napoleon as the 
reformer of society, and, if not the regenerator of morals, at 

i Les Femmes CH^bres, i. 9. 2 Soc. Pranp. sous le Directoire, 299. 



20 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

least the restorer of appearances and the reviver of opinion. It 
was Napoleon's mission — for we are not to consider him hei-e as 
a soldier or a legislator — to repress the abuses which crept or 
strode into society during the interregnum between '89 and '99. 
It is indispensable to expose, in some detail, the situation of the 
mind and heart of France throughout the three episodes which 
separate Louis XVI. from Bonaparte — the Revolution, Terror, 
and Directory. This can be attained in no better manner, within 
the limits and according to the purpose of this volume, than by 
concisely narrating the experience of the most conspicuous wo- 
men of the epoch, though some may have been heroines and 
some harlots. The Women of the Revolution will thus naturally 
provoke a comparison with the Women of the Empire : the latter 
being as remarkable for their deprivation of influence as were the 
former for its enjoyment and exercise. 

The Women of the Empire who attained to fame were few : 
without exception, they suffered persecution. Madame de Stael 
was exiled for her opinions ; Madame Recamier was banished for 
her unrelenting beauty and her sturdy virtue ; Madame de Chev- 
reuse, the embodiment of the Legitimist protestation against 
Napoleon, was exQed for an epigram ; Madame Talhen under- 
went exclusion from the TuUeries, because she had been divorced ; 
Josephine suffered repudiation, because, being a wife without a 
child, the throne was without an heir. Historically and socially, 
these five women were the first of their time. Properly to 
appreciate a period in which women were so subjected to op^Dres- 
sion, and so denuded of influence, it is well to understand the 
previous period, in which example was of their setting, and when 
laws were of their making. 



CHAPTER II. 

Lucile Duplessis and Camille Desmoulins — Jesus Christ the Sans-culotte — Lucile's Prayer — Her 
Death and Character — Charlotte Corday — Her Journey to Paris — Her Arrest, Trial, and Exe- 
cution — Her fifteen Portraits — Her Character as judged by History. 

THE sketches which follow, and which precede the advent of 
Napoleon, will prepare the reader, by the insight they give 
him into the state of France during the Republic, for a proper 
comparison of the two periods. Considering Napoleon as the re- 
constructor of society, it is important to know what elements he 
drew from the ruins and dismemberment of the edifice which the 
Revolution had overthrown, for that which, in its turn, the Resto- 
ration was to destroy. 

Lucile Duplessis, young, lovely, and thoughtless, was the 
type of that class of women who, without reproach or complaint, 
marched to the scaffold from the nursery of their children. 
Being the daughter of rich parents, she seemed unlikely to wed 
her penniless lover, Camille Desmoulins. But she waited from 
the age of twelve till the age of twenty : she waited till Ca- 
mille, overcoming a hesitation in his speech, became a vehement 
and impassioned orator. She waited till the 12th of July, 
1789, when, mounted upon a table in the Palais Royal, he pro- 
nounced the brief and celebrated harangue which gave the first 
impulse to the Revolution. "Citizens," he cried, "let us wear 
rosettes, by which to know friends from foes. What color do 
you choose ? Green, the color of hope, or the blue of Cincinna- 



22 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

tus, the color of American liberty ? Green, is it ? Let the ral- 
lying signal, then, be a green leaf plucked from the garden and 
worn upon the hat as a cockade." The trees were denuded of 
their foliage, and dense masses of men — Macbeth's Birnam wood 
animated and in march — strode at the heels of the impetuous 
Camille. Two days afterwards, the Bastille was in the hands of 
the insurgents, and the people danced among its smoking ruins. 

Lucile Duplessis now became Lucile Desmoulins. She soon 
shared the revolutionary zeal of her husband. As he wrote the 
successive numbers of his pamphlet, " Les Revolutions de France 
et de Brabant," she listened to them in manuscript, expressing 
^jk lier disapprobation of passages by dancing her cat upon the keys 

of a piano. She received from a society of patriots the bust 
of Lafayette, then as much beloved in France as in America. 
She gave to her first son the Roman name of Horace : his father 
offered him to the country, upon an altar erected for the purpose. 
Danton, who now became Minister of Justice, made his friend 
Camille secretary-general of his department. This rapid promo- 
tion overcame his better reason, and for a brief period he in- 
dulged the instincts of a reflected, not native, ferocity. Repent- 
ance and remorse followed. " Would that I were as obscure as 
I am infamously famous !" he wrote at this period to his father. 
" Where is the asylum or the cavern which may conceal me from 
every eye, with my infant and my books ?" 

He now established the since famous journal, entitled " Le 
Vieux Cordelier." Disguisedly at first, openly in the sequel, he 
pleaded the cause of humanity, and begged a suspension of the 
Reign of Terror. His friends besought him not to compromise 
himself out of season and without possible fruit. But his resolu- 
tion was taken : he could only redeem the errors he had commit- 
ted and the excesses he had shared, by a bold disavowal of the 
past. "Let Camille fulfill his mission," said Lucile, on one of 
these occasions, as she was preparing the morning's meal ; " he is 
destined to save his country. Ko one who opposes him shall 



LUGILE DESMOUHNS. 23 

taste my chocolate for breakfast." Camille Desmoulins was speed- 
ily denounced, arrested, and brouglat before the bar of the Con- 
vention. 

Danton and Camille were tried on the same day. The replies 
of both to the first questions asked them, are brilliant examples 
of French epigrammatic repartee. Danton was told to give his 
home and his name. "My home will soon be in chaos," he 
replied, " my name will forever live in history." Camille was 
summoned to tell his age. "Thirty-three years," he returned, 
" exactly the age of Jesus Christ the sans-culotte." French sen- 
timent as well as the French language permits such an allusion 
without intended profanity. On their way to the scaffold, Dan- 
ton contemplated the howling multitude with tranquillity and 
disdain, while Camille gave vent to his feelings in detached frag- 
ments of vehement imprecation. On passing the residence of 
Robespierre, he uttered the famous philippic : " Thou shalt fol- 
low us, Robespierre : thy house shall be razed, and salt shall be 
sown upon the soil which it cumbers." He perished holding a 
lock of Lucile's hair in his clenched and trembling hand. 

Such was the train of circumstances which was to transform 
Lucile DesmouUns from the gay and thoughtless woman, unknown 
to history, into the heroine destined to grace the portrait gallery 
of France. She had written a touching appeal to Robespierre — 
but lately her suitor — in behalf of Camille : she had sent letters, 
her portrait and her hair, to her husband in prison. She had 
watched days and nights at the dungeon windows : and the 
chronicles of the time accuse her of having plotted an attack 
upon the prison and the deliverance of the captives. It was upon 
this charge that she was arrested and brought to trial. She 
arrayed herself in her most elegant toilet ; her black hair was 
tressed in a gauze handkerchief of snowy whiteness. Her com- 
plicity in the alleged plot was not proved, but her guilt was pro- 
nounced. She arose and thus addressed her judges : " So, in a few 
moments, I shall have the delight of meeting my dear Camille. 



24 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

In leaving the earth, where I no longer possess that which at- 
tached me to hfe, I am much happier than you, for you shall 
live tormented by that remorse which is the fruit of crime. Do 
you not know that the blood of a woman is always fatal to 
tyrants ? Do you not remember that the blood of a woman drove 
the Tarquins and the decemvirs from Rome ? Rejoice, my coun- 
try ! and receive with transport this augury of thy salvation !" 

A prayer, fragmentary and half illegible, was found among 
her papers, and is doubtless to be connected with this period of 
her life. It ran thus: "0 thou, whom the earth adores, if 
indeed thou art, receive the offering of a heart that worships thee. 
Oh, enlighten my soul and illumine my reason ! When, God, 
may I fly into thy bosom, and raise my humid eyelids upon thy 
glory ? Art thou a spirit, art thou a flame ? I adore without 
comprehending thee : I implore without knowing thee : I feel, 
yet I cannot divine thee. Thou art the source of life, and the 
secret of nature. There is no happiness but in thee : all else is 
vain illusion." Having made her peace with Heaven, having pro- 
vided for her two children upon earth, content to lose her hold 
upon the past, and confident of redemption in the future, she 
ascended the fatal chariot, smiling and serene. She conversed 
gaily with a young man, on the road to the scaffold. She 
mounted the steps without aid, and died composedly and unaf- 
fectedly braving the horrors of a pubhc, violent, and ignomini- 
ous death. 

History has not told, and philosophy has hardly inquired, what 
it was in the influence of the times or the contagion of the atmos- 
phere, which gave to the women of this period the grandeur, 
now child-like and now solemn, with which they supported calam- 
ity and endured defeat. Up to the age of twenty-three, Lucile 
Desmoulins had displayed no higher quahties than a persevering 
constancy, a tried devotion, and the natural, earnest affections of 
a wife and a mother. Suddenly suspicion entered her house, 
and death desolated her home. The scaffold soon menaced her 



CHARLOTTE CORDAY. 25 

life, and orphanage lowered about her children. It was now that 
she received, as by inspiration, gifts that she did not seem to pos- 
sess either by nature or education. She found a new faith in her 
heart, unbidden tears upon her eyehds, and an unknown eloquence 
upon her lips. She showed the abnegation of a Christian, the 
fortitude of a stoic, the hope of a martyr. After twenty-three 
years of a Kfe which, though not frivolous, was certainly not 
austere, she met the catastrophe which terminated it, in a spirit 
at once Spartan in its simplicity, and Roman in its sacrifice. 
Her death furnishes instruction to mankind, and to history a 
relieving light to mingle with its accumulated shadows. 

Marie-Anne-Charlotte de Corday was born on the 27th of 
July, 1768, at Argentan, in Normandy. Her father was a direct 
descendant, in the fourth generation, of one of the sisters of 
Corneille, the dramatist, another of whose sisters gave birth to 
Fontenelle. His family consisted of two sons and three daugh- 
ters ; they lived in a condition bordering upon indigence, though 
sustained with dignity ; their annual income not exceeding fifteen 
hundred francs. On the death of Madame de Corday, which 
occurred shortly after Charlotte's birth, the latter was placed 
with her sisters at a convent in the town of Caen, where they 
remained till the revolution of 1789. At the latter date, Char- 
lotte found an asylum at the house of an aunt, with whom she 
remained till July, 1793, the period of her journey to Paris, on 
the mission which has made her immortal. 

Though she lived in retirement, and avoided systematically 
all political assemblages, she was seen at this epoch by numerous 
persons, who have left us their impressions of her appearance, 
character, and manners. She was of a contemplative, almost 
melancholy mood, and passed much of her time in study and 
reflection. Her favorite authors were CorneiUe, Racine, and 
Rousseau, and it does not appear that she gave any considerable 
portion of her time to political reading, though her subsequent 
acts show how profoundly she was interested in the affairs of the 

4 



26 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

state. M. Dubois, Secretary-general of ttie Prefecture, who met 
her often during the three months preceding her departure from 
home, gives the following description of her appearance : 

" I at once noticed M'Ue de Corday for her noble yet simple 
beauty. She was five feet one inch in height, and appeared tall ; 
her form was classic and harmonious. Young, fresh, interesting 
and elegant, modest in her attitudes, she seemed to veil, as with 
a tinge of melancholy, the vivacity of her expression ; her hps 
and cheeks were faultlessly colored ; the waving curls of her 
brown hair, and the fine arch of her black eyebrows, gave to her 
face, which was regularly oval, the most charming character ; 
her blue eyes, at once intelhgent, tender and modest, gave an 
infinite charm to the modulations of her voice ; her conversation 
was precise, elegant and reserved ; and her ideas, as she gave 
them expression, were remarkable for their justice, clearness and 
measure. Her intonation was dehcate, melodious and seduc- 
tive." 

It was during the months of June and July of 1793, that the 
exasperation and disgust of the provinces, at the fierce and wan- 
ton excesses of the revolutionary tribunal at Paris, attained their 
highest point. Normandy and Brittany collected their best citi- 
zens, formed them into columns, and prepared to send them 
against the capital, now completely in the power of Kobespierre 
and Marat. Caen was the focus of this organized resistance, and 
Charlotte Corday hved in an atmosphere of discontent and rebel- 
hon. Marat was considered the worst of the three demagogues, 
and appeared then, as history has painted him since, the most 
odious and the most dangerous, because the most influential with 
the populace. 

Charlotte, we learn from her own declaration at her trial, 
believed that in destroying Marat, she should deprive anarchy of 
its chief, and civil war of its motive : she hoped to arrest the 
shedding of innocent blood and to preserve the thousands of fives 
and liberties that were threatened by the continuance of his 



CHARLOTTE COEDAY AT PARIS. 27 

power. So, animated by this noble purpose, without any appa- 
rent effort to nerve herself to the act, though sure to lose her 
Hfe in the attempt, concealing from all the object of her jour- 
ney, and giving her father and sisters, at Argentan, to understand 
that she was going to England, she bade adieu to her friends at 
Caen, and on Tuesday, the 9th of July, took the diligence for 
Paris. Her passport was three months old, and was signed Marie 
Corday. Being a repubhcan, she omitted the nobiliary particle 
de before her family name. 

On Thursday, the 11th, she arrived in Paris, after two days' 
travel, and alighted at the Hdtel de la Providence. She went to 
bed at five in the afternoon, and slept without interruption till 
eight the next morning. On Saturday, the 13th, she bought at 
the Palais Koyal an ebony-handled knife, for which she paid 
forty sous : she then called at Marat's house, but was not ad- 
mitted. She returned home and wrote to Marat the following 
letter, which she sent through the post : 

"Citizen. — I have just arrived from Caen. Tour love for 
your country leads me to presume that you would be glad to 
learn the unhappy occurrences in that part of the republic. I 
will call upon you at one o'clock. Have the kindness to receive 
me, and to grant me a moment's interview : I will enable you to 
render France a signal service. — Charlotte Corday." 

To this she received no answer. She then wrote another let- 
ter, and, taking it with her, again called at Marat's residence, at 
seven in the evening. For this second letter, however, she had 
no use, as she was admitted. It was found upon her person, 
when she was searched. 

Marat was at this moment in his bath, writing ; his counte- 
nance was much disfigured by leprosy. He heard the servants 
refusing admittance to the applicant, and learning that it was the 
person who had written to him in the morning, he ordered her 
to be introduced. He questioned her upon the events which had 
transpired at Caen, and asked her the names of the deputies who 



28 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

had taken refuge in that city. These he wrote upon his Hsts 
of proscription, and then said, "I will soon have these people 
guillotined at Paris." Charlotte Corday immediately advanced 
towards him, and drawing from her bosom and unsheathing her 
knife, she plunged it into his side. Marat could only exclaim, 
"Help, my love, help," speaking to the woman whom he called 
his " governess :" he expired immediately, and almost without a 
groan. 

The people of the house at once rushed into the room ; 
Laurent Basse, the carrier of Marat's newspaper, seized a chair 
and felled Charlotte to the ground. Albertine, the governess, 
trampled on her with her feet. A tumultuous crowd assembled 
under the windows and demanded the assassin's head. It was 
with difficulty that the populace could be induced to allow the 
carriage to pass in which she was conveyed to the prison of the 
Abbaye. 

The next morning, the 14th, a member of the Convention 
made to that body a report upon the occurrence, in which he 
said: "This woman bears the audacity of crime stamped upon 
her very countenance ; she is capable of the worst designs ; she 
is one of those monsters that Nature vomits forth, occasionally, 
to be the scourge of humanity." Marat was buried on the 15th, 
and on the 16th Charlotte Corday was transferred from the 
Abbaye to the Conciergerie, to undergo her trial on the morrow. 
At eight in the evening, she sat down to write to the deputy 
Barbaroux, a refugee at Caen. One passage runs thus : " I do not 
know how the last moments of my life will pass : it is the end 
which crowns the work. I have no need of affecting insensibihty 
to my fate ; for thus far I have no fear of death. I have never 
put any value upon life, except as an opportunity for useful- 
ness." 

She then wrote a short letter to her father, in which were the 
following passages : " Pardon me, my dear father, if I have dis- 
posed of my life without your consent. I have avenged many 



THE TRIAL. 29 

innocent victims ; I have prevented many disasters. . . . Adieu, 
my dear father ! I pray you to forget me, or rather to rejoice at 
miy fate. You know I could not have been actuated by an un- 
worthy motive. Kiss my sister, whom I love with all my heart, 
as I do all my relatives. ... I am to be tried to-morrow, at eight 
o'clock." 

At the appointed hour the tribunal was opened. Montane 
presided, the infamous Fouquier Tinville officiating as public 
accuser. Charlotte Corday was at once introduced, and placed 
upon the prisoners' bench. She advanced with a composure and 
dignity of carriage, and a serenity of countenance, which she pre- 
served through the trial and the delivery of the sentence. The 
president, perceiving in the chamber M. Chauveau de Lagarde — 
afterwards the advocate of Marie Antoinette — empowered him to 
assume the prisoner's defense. He at once took a seat beside 
her, and, as he himself says in his notes of the trial, read in her 
countenance, as she gazed at htm, the silent declaration that any 
defense unworthy of her would be instantly disavowed. He adds 
that the appearance of this imposing heroine, calmly and confi- 
dently braving this fierce and fanatic tribunal, produced a power- 
ful effect upon president, jury and spectators ; they seemed to 
take her for a judge about to summon them to their last account. 

The trial lasted but half an hour. Some of her answers to the 
questions put to her bespeak the sincerity of her convictions and 
the purity of her motives. The judge inquired what had led 
her to the assassination of Marat. "His crimes," she repHed. 
"What do you mean by his crimes?" "The disasters he has 
caused since the Revolution." " Who induced you to kill him ?" 
"No one : the idea was my own." "Still, the idea must have 
been suggested by some one ?" " No : one executes ill what he 
has not himself planned. I knew that he was perverting France. 
I have slain one man to save a hundred thousand. I was a 
republican long before the Revolution, and have never been defi- 
cient in energy." "What do you mean by energy?" "The 



30 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

quality whicli leads one to lay aside personal interests, and sacri- 
fice himself for his country." "Did you not practise on other 
persons before striking Marat?" " No : I am not an assassin !" 

At about this period of the trial, Charlotte noticed a young 
man in the audience engaged in sketching her portrait. She at 
once turned towards him, that he might the more readily re-pro- 
duce her features. This incident is noticed in the official report 
of the trial, in the Moniteur of the 27th of July. This portrait, 
and another, taken as she was on her way to the scaffold, are the 
originals of all the hkenesses now in existence. These number 
over fifteen ; the best is preserved with care at Caen.^ 

One of the witnesses stated that at the moment of her arrest, 
Charlotte said she would have preferred killing Marat in his seat 
at the Convention ; for she would then have been at once mur- 
dered by the people, and as her family beheved her at London, 
her name would never have been known. She cut the deposi- 
tions of several witnesses short, by saying, ' ' Yes, it was I that 
killed him." 

Fouquier Tinville here summed up the evidence, and called 
upon the jury for a sentence to death. While he was speaking, 
Chauveau de Lagarde received from the jury instructions to 
dechne the defense, and from the judge, advice to consider the 
prisoner demented. "Their desire was," he adds, "that I should 
humiliate her." He rose : confused sounds at first met his ear, 
but they soon subsided into a death-like silence. He looked for 
the last time at his chent, and reading in her glance a positive 
injunction to attempt no justification, he delivered the following 
appeal : 

" The prisoner acknowledges with coolness the horrible crime 
she has committed : she acknowledges with coolness a long pre- 
meditation : she acknowledges it in all its details : in one word, 
her acknowledgment is complete, and she seeks no justification. 

1 The portrait of Charlotte Corday, upon the opposite page, is from the original picture by Ary Scheffer, 
in the gallery of the Luzembourg. Though beheved to be somewhat ideaUzed, the public has accepted it as an 
authentic likeness ; no other portrait of the Norman heroine would now be received in France. 







-^"A 



eiiAiiiL©irTi c©mi)A¥ 



THE CONDEMNATION. 31 

This, citizen juiymen, is her whole defense. This imperturb- 
able tranquilhty, this entire self-forgetfulness, this calmness and 
this devotion, in one respect sublime, are not natural. They can 
only be explained by the ardor of the pohtical fanaticism which 
has placed the poignard in her hand. It is your duty, citizen 
jurymen, to determine what weight must be given to this consi- 
deration in the balance of justice. I leave it to your prudence." 

The question was now put to the jury. The vote was unani- 
mous, and the president at once pronounced her sentence to 
death, and the confiscation of her property. Being asked if she 
had anything to say, she caused herself to be led to Lagarde, 
whom she addressed as follows : ' ' Sir, I thank you for the cou- 
rage and dehcacy with which you have defended me : it was 
worthy of you and of me. But I desire to give you a greater 
j)roof of my gratitude. These gentlemen," turning towards the 
jury, " confiscate my property : I beg you, therefore, to pay for 
me what I owe at the prison, and I shall count upon your gene- 
rosity." Her debts amounted to thirty-six francs, which Lagarde 
paid to the porter of the Abbaye the next morning. 

Charlotte Corday was at once conveyed back to the Con- 
ciergerie, where she soon received the visit of a priest. She de- 
chned hstening to him, saying, " Give my thanks to the persons 
who sent you, but I have no need of your services." She had 
abeady said before the tribunal that she had never confessed to 
a priest. Soon afterwards the executioner entered her cell. She 
was to die that evening. 

At seven o'clock, dressed in the red chemise that, by law, 
convicted assassins were compelled to wear, she was placed upon 
the chariot and conveyed to the Place de la Revolution. The 
streets were filled by an excited poj)ulace, who assailed her with 
maledictions and gibes. Some few expressed their admiration, 
and encouraged her by word and look. Her attitude, during this 
trying scene, was calm and dignified, though she was somewhat 
agitated by the near approach of her martyrdom. Her color was 



32 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

high, and she seemed to enjoy a foretaste of immortahty. At 
the sight of the scaffold, she manifested a momentary alarm, 
but ascended its steps with resolution. As the executioner 
removed the handkerchief which covered her bosom, her counte- 
nance showed that the fear of death was a sentiment secondary 
to that of offended modesty. She placed her head upon the block, 
and perished an eager and wilhng martyr to the cause she had 
espoused, but which she failed to serve. 

The titled executioner of Paris, Sanson, had delegated his 
office, for this occasion, to one of his aids, named Legros. This 
person presented the severed head to the people, and as he did 
so, dealt it a sturdy blow upon either cheek. The spectators 
murmured their disapprobation, and Legros was imprisoned for 
the outrage. At the moment of committing it, the bystanders 
noticed that the cheeks of the victim became suffused with a deep 
flush. This incident gave rise to an animated scientific discus- 
sion, in 1795, in the Magazin Bncyclop6dique. The fact was ex- 
plained by some, by supposing that the brain momentarily sur- 
vives decollation, and that in Charlotte Oorday's case, the blush 
was occasioned by indignation. Others accounted for it anatom- 
ically, while others still, denied the circumstance altogether. It 
would seem, however, to be as well authenticated as anything 
can be, dependent upon popular evidence and public belief. 

Charlotte Corday ranks as the first French heroine, not even 
excepting Jeanne d'Arc. Her ancestry was illustrious and her 
birth noble. Her morals were pure and her life was spotless. 
Her tastes and associations were refined. Her motive for the act 
which has given her immortality was purely patriotic. She 
offered her own hfe upon the altar of humanity. In the pursu- 
ance of her design she displayed judgment and resolution, and 
she met her fate with composure and fortitude. That nothing 
might be wanting to complete a portrait and a character already 
so perfect, she was the possessor of unusual beauty of face and 
form, and enjoyed enduring health. She failed only in her choice 



AN EPITAPH. 33 

of a victim. Marat was sinking under the effects of his disease, 
and the leading Girondins regarded him as merely the puppet of 
Robespierre and Danton. 

Posterity has done her full justice. Historians, poets and 
dramatists have chronicled her praise ; painters and sculptors 
have perpetuated her features. Had success crowned her efforts, 
her country would have judged her worthy of the Girondin de- 
puty's epitaph — a daring composition, for which he siiffered 
death : 

"CHARLOTTE CORDAT: 

GREATER THAN BRUTCTS." 



CHAPTER III. 

The Furies of the Guillotine — ^The first Sans-culottes — Theroigne de Mericourt — An Amazon at 
the Invalides — Her Address to the Club des CordeUers — A Koyalist Caricature — Olympe de 
Gouges — Madame Eoland — Her Precocity — Her Marriage and Kemoval to Paris — Her Asso- 
ciation with the Girondins — Her Arrest and Condemnation. 

MIRABBAU had one day remarked at Yersailles, during the 
scenes which preluded the Revolution, that an insurrection 
would be impossible, unless women took an active part m it, and 
made themselves its sponsors and its leaders. This observation 
was doubtless uttered with a meaning ; for the eloquent tribune 
had learned from history, what pitiless ferocity and sanguinary 
intensity may be communicated to a social or political revolt, by 
the cooperation of those whom license and depravity have disin- 
herited of the gentler privileges of their sex. At periods of social 
disorganization — at least in France — ^no hate is more venomous, 
no emancipation from restraint more turbulent, than that of the 
woman whose transgressions deny her the name of wife or of 
mother. The allusion of Mirabeau was eagerly seized upon and 
colported at Paris. It was not long before a band of women, 
possessing something of the discipline and concentration of a 
military organization, burst upon the astonished city. These 
women, the opprobrium of their sex, the shame of the Revolu- 
tion, soon deserved and acquired the title of "Les Furies de 
Guillotine." 

They began their political existence in the haUs of the Na- 
tional Assembly and of the Jacobin Club. They drowned the 



THE FURIES OF THE GUILLOTINE. 35 

conciliatory proposals of the Girondins in a deluge of murmurs 
and imprecations, receiving the violent appeals of the Mountain, 
and the denunciations of the Committee of Public Safety, with 
formidable salvos of applause. Their riotous behavior gave to 
French revolutionary language its most celebrated epithet : the 
Abb6 Maury, annoyed by their interruptions, said to the presi- 
dent : " Pray, sir, call to order this pack of sans-culottes !" The 
name of sans-culotte, or trowserless politician, has since been ap- 
plied to any person professing extreme opinions, or urging violent 
measm-es. 

They soon appeared upon the place of public execution, where 
they rendered the Terror good service. The people had been 
but lately struck with horror and moved to pity, by the fearful 
struggles of la Dubarry with the executioner upon the scaffold. 
Several isolated cries of "Grace! grace!" were heard in reply 
to her frantic appeals for mercy. The peojDle were tiring of 
these bloody saturnalia : another such desperate resistance might 
incline them to interference and rescue. The decapitation of 
Chatel, Mayor of St. Denis, first revealed the presence of these 
implacable Bumenides ; they stifled the first whisper of comj)as- 
sion under a storm of menace and invective. They now made it 
their mission and their pleasure to attend upon and haunt the 
instrument of death. They augmented the horror of the victim 
by their demoniacal clamor ; they clung to the frame-work of the 
guillotine, vociferating atrocious taunts upon the pallor of the 
criminal, counterfeiting his last shudder and caricaturing his ex- 
piring agony : they besought the executioner to allow one of 
their nmnber to officiate in his place ; and when, in their hideous 
dialect, the victim "had sneezed in the bag," they danced the car- 
magnole about his mutilated body — that frantic rigadoon, half 
dance, half ditty — ^with which the king had been insulted, and 
with which death was now blasphemed and eternity profaned ! ^ 

They arrogated to themselves the right of inflicting personal 

1 Les Femmes C61^bres, ii. 200. 



36 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

chastisement upon persons of their own sex suspected of aristo- 
cracy, or convicted of contumacy, by declining to wear the tri- 
colored rosette. They seized women in the open street, and, 
heedless of their supplications, flagellated them puhhcly — sub- 
jecting them to the ignominy of the treatment undergone at 
Rome by the Vestals who neglected the sacred fire. They broke 
into a convent of Sisters of Charity, under pretense of searching 
for a refractory priest ; they dragged the recluses forth into the 
street, and there, making jest of their mission of consolation and 
mercy, and tearing a portion of their garments from their per- 
sons, they whipped them till the indignant mob interfered. 

These Tisiphones of the Revolution disappeared upon the 
promulgation of the Constitution of 1795 : their last act was to 
hoot at Barras and his colleagues, as they proceeded to the Insti- 
tute to inaugurate the government of the Directory. 

Theroigne de Mericourt, at one period the leader of the 
Furies de Guillotine, was, in her youth, a peasant of the envi- 
rons of Liege. A victim, at the age of seventeen, of a cruel decep- 
tion and abandonment on the part of a man of high position, she 
fled from her native village, carrying with her an ardent hatred 
of the social institutions to which she owed her disgrace. The 
artificial distinctions of rank had caused her portion to be seduc- 
tion and desertion instead of marriage : her fall was due to a 
system which, she said, destroyed love by destroying equality. 
She nourished this germ of retributive vengeance till it became a 
towering and controlling passion : she lived to make her name 
famous as that of a vindictive, insatiable, and remorseless lev- 
eller. 

She fled at once to England, where her beauty won her the 
homage of the Prince of Wales ; on returning to France, she 
became the Aspasia of the day, choosing Mirabeau for her Peri- 
cles. The vengeance which she was, at a later period, to direct 
against a class and against masses, she now waged against indi- 
viduals. Many were the nobles whom she stripped of their for- 



THEROIGNE DE MERICOURT. 37 

tune, or disgraced in position. Already, and with only such in- 
fluence as a courtesan could command, she dealt vigorous blows 
at privilege and caste. But nature had not intended her to exer- 
cise her varied talents upon a field so limited, and by processes 
so degrading : the Revolution, the efi'ervescence of the streets, 
and the tumult of the camp, taught her the true sphere of her 
influence. Aspasia became Bellona. 

She now assumed the costume of an Amazon : her tight-fit- 
ting bodice and short skirt were of blue cloth ; her hat, a la 
Henri IV., was worn martially upon one ear; a heavy sabre 
hung at her side, and two pistols garnished her belt. The whip 
which she carried in her hand, ostensibly an instrument of mas- 
culine intent, in reality bore witness to still lingering feminine 
apprehensions. The ball of the handle was filled with aromatic 
salts, to be used in case of fainting, and to "neutralize the ema- 
nations of the crowd :" a dainty and fastidious sentiment for a 
lady holding popular and democratic views ! She adopted an 
energetic and descriptive motto, with which to spur and sustain 
her own courage : A crime to punish — a people to avenge — a 
king to dethrone ! 

She led the attack upon the Invalides, in quest of weapons 
with which to arm the insurrection. The governor opened the 
gates to the infuriated rabble, whom it were madness to resist. 
In ten minutes, the huge castle swarmed from cellar to dome ; 
the armory was ransacked, and the park of artillery seized. 
Th^roigne assumed and maintained a grade equal to that of the 
acknowledged leaders, Hulin and Ethis de Corny. She posted 
piquets, enrolled and drilled undisciplined recruits, intercepted 
the king's despatches from Yersailles, gave orders and enforced 
obedience. She was one of the first to scale the ramparts of the 
Bastille ; for this she received an honorary sabre, and was placed 
upon the national list of the conquerors of the dungeon. 

She now adopted an austere and mystic severity of manner ; 
she abandoned her debaucheries, and frequented only the society 



38 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

of journalists and of literary men. She stored her memory with 
poetic passages most calculated to impress and agitate a miscel- 
laneous and excitable audience. Her oratory, seasoned by a 
strong Flemish accent, and adorned by images almost exclu- 
sively drawn from Pindar and the Bible, was in the highest 
degree picturesque and seductive. Her address to the Club des 
Cordeliers, upon the shame of lodging the king in a palace, 
and the deputies in a riding-school, is a masterpiece of revolu- 
tionary eloquence. Having been introduced to the club as the 
Queen of Sheba visiting Solomon, she seized upon the allusion 
with ready wit, and made it the occasion of her exordium : 
"Yes," she said, "it was Solomon's mission to build one temple, 
and if you possess his wisdom, hasten to construct another for 
the National Assembly. The executive inhabits the finest palace 
of the universe, while the legislature, like the dove loosed from 
Noah's ark, and which found no resting-place for the sole of its 
foot, wanders from the Storehouse to the Circus, and from the 
Circus to the Tennis-court. The last stone of the lowest cell of 
the Bastille has been laid at the feet of the Senate. The site of 
the fortress is vacant ; one hundred thousand laborers call for 
work. Why do you delay, illustrious patriots, repubHcans, and 
Romans ? Open a subscription to erect the national palace upon 
the foundations of the Bastille. Let us cut the cedars of Leba- 
non, and the savins of Mount Ida. Oh ! if ever stones moved 
from impulse of their own, it was not to build the walls of 
Thebes, but to construct the Temple of Liberty ! The French, 
like the Jews, are given to idolatry ; they yield their worship to 
the external emblems which captivate their senses. Divert, 
then, their eyes from the pavilion of Flora and the colonnades 
of the Louvre, to a temple more beautiful than St. Paul's at 
London, or St. Peter's at Rome !" 

Thiroigne was the soul of the fearful disorders that followed 
the announcement that the king sought to reduce Paris by fam- 
ine. She was the chief of a horde of women armed with clubs, 



A POLITICAL CARICATURE. 39 

muskets, and cutlasses. Dressed in red, and with a red plume 
floating from her cap, bearing a lance in her hand and a carbine 
upon her shoulder, with dishevelled hair and impassioned ges- 
ture, she stood aloft upon a cannon, brandishing the tricolor and 
tossing imprecations at the royal body-guard and the regiment 
of Flanders. At massacre and bivouac, at plot, council, orgie, 
and carnage, Theroigne was the master-spirit and the prime 
agitator — an ardent and remorseless Pythoness, breathing upon 
the masses that were subject to her will the invisible spirit which 
inspired her own breast.^ 

Theroigne now became the butt of the royalist pamphleteers. 
A drama in verse was written to chronicle and celebrate her 
marriage with Populus. One of the scenes represented the birth 
of their first boy at the Assembly. By some mischance, the in- 
fant rolls upon the president's table, overturns two hundred and 
sixteen motions and one hundred and thirty-eight amendments, 
and slightly rings the bell ; he finally stops at a bundle of the 
writings of the Abbe Siey^s, and goes to sleep upon them, which 
is considered a proof of good taste. The president announces 
an examination of the child in order to discover and verify his 
paternity ; every demagogue asserts his claim to that distin- 
guished honor. Several stains, as it were of blood, seem to in- 
dicate that the sanguinary Barnave is the author of his days. A 
marked difference in the size of his feet would appear to connect 
his birth with Talleyrand. His formidable voice allies him, by 
general consent, with Mirabeau ; but then a sort of alert rest- 
lessness equally assimilates him to Mathieu de Montmorency ; 
while an inconstant eye, half martial, half pacific, inclines Charles 
Lameth to recognize him as his son. His sex not being dis- 
tinctly proved, however, the Due d'Aiguillon claims him, having 
puzzled the town about his own sex, by his famous disguise as a 
fishwoman.^ Such was a political caricature in 1793. 

• Theroigne was present at, and took an active part in, the 

1 Lea 12 Journ6e3 de la Revolution. — A Poem. ^ Actes des Apotres, chap. 3S. 



40 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

September massacres at the prisons. In her infuriate thirst for 
blood, she was not altogether indiscriminate, choosing her vic- 
tims, by preference, among aristocrats, either suspected or de- 
nounced. At the Abbaye she met the young nobleman who had 
betrayed her. Hesitating for a moment at this dramatic rencon- 
tre, apparently vacillating between vengeance and mercy, massa- 
cre and reprieve, she plunged her sabre into his breast. The 
purpose of her life was fulfilled at the age of thirty-two. Her 
reason was not destined long to survive this early accomplish- 
ment of what she had made the object and end of existence. 

Upon the capture of the Bastille, Theroigne had been deputed 
to deliver the keys of the fortress to a member of the munici- 
pality, named Brissot. An earnest friendship sprang up between 
the two, which continued even when the latter became leader of 
the moderate party. He was one day assailed in the garden of 
the Tuileries by a band of the "Furies de Guillotine." The- 
roigne threw herself between them, and zealously took his de- 
fense. "Ah, you are a Brissotine, are you?" they cried. "Then 
you shall pay for yourself and him !" They seized, bound and 
flagellated her, in the midst of a hooting populace. She lost 
consciousness, and finally reason. She disappeared from public 
life, and, when again heard of, was an inmate of a mad-house. 
She lived, a hopeless and revolting maniac, through the Direc- 
tory, the Consulate and Empire, and died under Louis XVIII., 
after having suffered twenty-four years of durance. 

Olympe de Grouges, a courtesan in her youth, an author in her 
maturer years, possessing an ardent imagination, an impetuous 
temper, a rapid and burning eloquence, and an intrepid spirit, 
embraced with enthusiasm the principles of the Revolution. She 
became the most conspicuous and brilliant political adventurer 
of her sex. It was she who proposed the establishment of female 
clubs, that women might take part in public debate and influence 
the action of government ; and she herself was the first woman 
to harangue an auditory of citoyennes. In these discourses she 



OLYMPE DE GOUGES. 41 

displayed a profundity of thought and a vigor of logic which a 
statesman might have envied : a warmth and fervor of expression 
equalled by few orators of greater fame. She was not a dema- 
gogue nor a fanatic, for she deprecated and deplored intestine 
commotion or bloodshed. The excesses of the Revolution shocked 
her, and induced in her the most contradictory fluctuations and 
reactions of opinion. She regretted the throne while she preached 
the Republic : she shed tears over the captive king while her lips 
still dallied with the advancing Revolution. 

When it became apparent that Louis Capet, the last of the 
Bourbons, suffering for errors of which he was not the author, and 
held responsible for calamities he could not avert, must appear 
like a criminal at the bar of the Convention, her democracy aban- 
doned her, and she wept over the degradation of her legitimate 
king. She wrote to the President of the Convention, proposing 
to associate herself with Malesherbes in the defense of the mon- 
arch. " What matters my sex?'' she asked. "The soul is the 
point. Louis deserves exile, but not death. Rome won immor- 
tality by the exile of its king : England has earned infamy by 
the murder of Charles I." 

This open espousal of the principles of the moderate party 
exposed her to the suspicions of her late associates, the Jacobins. 
She replied to their taunts by pamphlets unequalled by anything 
in the language for their energetic, yet crude eloquence. She 
thus apostrophized Robespierre : " Thou thinkest thyself a Cato, 
Robespierre ; but thou art nought but Cato's caricature. Thou 
livest in the hope of making thyself a place among memorable 
usurpers. Thy reason, caressed by the example of Cromwell, is 
subjugated by that of Mahomet. Oh, Maximilien I Maximilien ! 
Thou proclaimest peace to the world, and wagest war against 
the human race. Thou callest thyself the sole author of the Rev- 
olution, but thou art nothing but its eternal opprobrium and 
its lasting execration. Thy breath taints the air, and the hairs 
of thy head can hardly number the crimes of thy hand. When 

6 



42 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

thou speakest of thy vu'tues, why is it that high heaven does not 
launch forth its thunders, to drown the sacrilege of thy impious 
lips !" 

Olympe de Grouges was condemned in November, 1793. 
When the executioner cut off her hair, she asked for a looking- 
glass. "Heaven be praised," she exclaimed, "my face does not 
play me false : I am not pale." At the foot of the scaffold, she 
said, " They ought to be content : they have destroyed the tree 
and the branch." Thus perished a woman, whose talents, had 
they been guided by principle, and exercised in their proper 
sphere, might have made her the equal of Madame Roland, her 
illustrious contemporary. But the faculties that Heaven bestowed 
to be employed with earnest purpose and for enduring benefit, 
she frittered away in the consuming excitements of a dissolute 
life, in a futile pursuit of literature, and in a brilliant but un- 
steady political career. With the eloquence of Mirabeau, the wit 
of Talleyrand, and the courage of Bayard, she has left posterity 
little to admire, and nothing to imitate. 

Manon Philipon, afterwards Madame Roland — ^the greatest 
of the Women of the Revolution — was born at Paris in the year 
1756. Her memoirs, written in prison at the close of her life and 
at the age of thirty-seven, supply the best existing account of her 
career. These are dated at Ste. Pelagie, 1793, and commence as 
follows : "Daughter of an artist, wife of a philosopher, who when 
a minister of state remained a man of virtue ; now a prisoner, 
destined perhaps to a violent and unexpected death — I have 
known happiness and adversity: I have learned what glory is, 
and have suffered injustice. Born in an humble condition, but 
of respectable parents, I passed my youth in the bosom of the 
arts and amidst the delights of study, knowing no superiority but 
that of merit, and no grandeur but that of virtue." 

Pencils and paper, graving tools, books and a guitar were 
placed early in Manon's hands. She read at the age of four, and 
eagerly perused everything which chance threw in her way— 



MADAME ROLAND. 43 

Locke, Pascal, Montesquieu, Voltaire, Don Quixote. She under- 
stood astronomy and algebra, and was the best dancer among the 
young society she was accustomed to meet ; and again, quitting 
her austere studies and her social gaieties, could skim the pot and 
prepare the meals of the family. At the age of eight, a book was 
placed in her hands, which formed her character and decided her 
fate. This was Plutarch's Lives of illustrious Greeks and Ro- 
mans. It became her bosom companion ; she carried it to church 
with her and slept with it under her pillow. At fourteen she 
wept that her birth had not made her a Spartan. Greece and 
Italy filled her mind and absorbed her thoughts : she lived in an 
ideal repubUc, enjoying wise laws, pure morals, secure institu- 
tions : her watchwords were glory, liberty and country. She con- 
trasted the weak and dissolute men of her epoch with the phi- 
losophers, sages and heroes, with whom she loved, in imagina- 
tion, to associate. 

From the age of seventeen to twenty, she received numerous 
offers of marriage, from persons in her own rank in life, but she 
felt that none but a man of education could satisfy the ideas she 
had formed. At this period her father entered into speculation 
and neglected his profession : he lost his property, and at the same 
time his wife. Manon was overwhelmed with grief, and as she her- 
self says, " was for a long time a burden to myself and to others. 
• At the age of twenty-one, I read the Nouvelle Heloise, and Rous- 
seau made the same impression upon me that Plutarch had done 
at eight. Plutarch disposed me to repubhcanism : he inspired me 
with a true enthusiasm for public virtue and freedom. Rousseau 
showed me domestic happiness and the ineffable felicity I was ca- 
pable of enjoying." She now resumed her studies and committed 
many of her reflections to paper. Though advised to pubhsh her 
writings, she declined, and thus explains her refusal: "My chief 
object was my own happiness, and I never knew the public inter- 
fere with this for any one without spoiling it. There is nothing 
more dehghtful than being appreciated by those with whom we 



44 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

live, and nothmg so empty as the admiration of those whom we 
are never to meet." 

At this time, M. Roland, a laborious writer and philosopher, 
a man of known probity and simplicity of character, sought her 
acquaintance. He was not calculated to make a favorable im- 
pression upon a young woman. He was formal in his manners, 
careless in his dress, and advanced in life. He waited five years 
before declaring to Manon the attachment he felt for her. His 
avowal did not displease her, though she rejected the offer. She 
felt that the family of Eoland, which, though not noble, had ac- 
quired official dignity, would oppose an alliance with a person of 
humble birth. Roland persisted, and being referred by Manon 
to her father, was definitively refused. 

Phihpon's affairs now became extremely embarrassed, and 
Manon, wishing to secure her own independence, purchased an 
annuity of six hundred francs, with which she obtained a room 
at a convent, where she hved, by dint of extreme economy. In 
six months Roland again presented himself as a suitor, and, 
after some dehberation on Manon's part, was accepted. She 
says, in her memoirs, "if marriage was, as I thought, an austere 
union, in which the woman usually burdens herself with the hap- 
piness of two individuals, it seemed better that I should exert 
my abilities and my courage in so honorable a task, than in the 
solitude in which I lived." She was married at the age of twen- 
ty-six, and soon became her husband's constant friend and com- 
panion. They travelled together in England and Switzerland, 
and finally settled in Lyons, where Roland became inspector of 
the manufactories. Madame Roland devoted herself to the edu- 
■ cation of her infant daughter, and to the genial task of rendering 
her home a happy one. The revolution of 1789 disturbed this 
peaceful existence. 

Madame Roland welcomed this event with joy. Her husband 
was sent by the manufacturers of Lyons, to represent to the Na- 
tional Assembly at Paris the distress suffered by their interest, 



MADAME ROLAND'S APPEARANCE. 45 

and she and their daughter accompanied him. Her house soon 
became the rendezvous of the Girondins, and she obtained great 
influence in their councils, through her talents, beauty and en- 
thusiasm. Her husband yielded insensibly to her superior ascend- 
ency. She wrote much for him, and inspired him with ardor and 
energy, though she sedulously avoided all appearance of exerting 
the influence she possessed. 

In December, 1792, Louis XVI., seeking succor amid his ad- 
versaries, resolved to choose a minister from among the Grirondins. 
This choice fell upon Roland, and was at once justified by his 
assiduity, his knowledge, zeal and probity. But the simplicity 
of his costume and the severity of his manners shocked the court, 
and the unvarnished truth of his advice annoyed the king and his 
council. Being alone in opinion in the cabinet, upon a certain 
measure, he presented an individual remonstrance to the king. 
This was written, at a single sitting, by his wife : it was couched 
in daring, even menacing language. It exists as a remarkable 
monument of the times, and of the genius of her who wrote it. 
Roland was dismissed from office the next day. 

The appearance of Madame Roland at this period is thus 
described: "Her eyes, hair and face were of remarkable beauty; 
her delicate complexion had a freshness and color which, joined 
to her reserved yet ingenuous appearance, imparted to her a 
singular air of youth. She spoke well and without affectation : 
wit, good sense, propriety of expression, keen reasoning, natural 
grace, all flowing without efi'ort from her rosy lips. Her hus- 
band resembled a Quaker, and she looked like his daughter. Her 
child flitted about her with ringlets down to her waist. Her mind 
was excited, but her heart remained gentle. Although the mon- 
archy was not yet overturned, she did not conceal the fact that 
symptoms of anarchy began to appear, and she declared herself 
ready to resist them unto death. I remember the resolute tone 
in which she announced herself as prepared, if need be, to place 
her head upon the block. I confess that the image of that 



46 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

charming head delivered over to the axe of the executioner made 
an indehble impression upon me : for party excesses had not yet 
accustomed us to such frightful ideas." 

Roland was soon after recalled to the ministry, upon the sus- 
pension of the royal authority. He maintained a long struggle 
with the anarchists who were daily gaining strength in the Con- 
vention, and who had become all-powerful with the mob. Madame 
Roland thus wrote to a friend upon the state of affairs at Paris : 
"Danton is the chief: Robespierre is his puppet: Marat holds 
his torch and dagger. This ferocious tribune is supreme, and we 
are its slaves till we shall become its victims. You are aware 
of my enthusiasm for the Revolution : well, I am ashamed of it ; 
it is deformed by monsters, and has become hideous. It is de- 
grading to remain, but we are not allowed to leave the city ; they 
shut us up to murder us when occasion serves." 

Discouraged and sick at heart, Roland retired from office, 
and he and his wife prepared to return to the country. On the 
overthrow of the Girondins, on the 31st of May, Madame Roland 
was arrested, by order of the Convention ; her husband had al- 
ready left the city, and was in a place of safety. She was taken 
to the prison of the Abbaye, through streets crowded with rioters, 
to whom her moderation rendered her odious. 

She at once determined to occupy her hours of captivity in 
writing the history of her times, and in sketching the portraits of 
the distinguished men with whom she had been thrown in con- 
tact. She obtained a few books, her admired Plutarch being 
among the number. She had hardly bent herself to her task, 
however, before she was transferred to another prison ; the jail- 
ers practising upon her the odious deception of announcing to 
her that she was at liberty, and under pretext of escorting her 
home, conveying her to Ste. Pelagie. She was here placed in the 
same building with the most hardened criminals, having no other 
associates in the apartment she occupied, than women of dissolute 
and abandoned life. Their situation excited her pity, and she 



M:. 




MTltOILlMl. 



OCCUPATIONS IN PEISON. 47 

resolved to restrict herself to the most abstemious diet, and at a 
later period, she even sold her silver, in order to alleviate their 
misery. She had always practised benevolence according to her 
means, and during the ministry of her husband, had set apart one 
thousand francs a month for that purpose.* 

It was during this imprisonment of five months, the rigors of 
which were somewhat softened by the humanity of the jailer's 
wife, that she wrote her " Private Memoirs," in which she 
narrates the events of the earlier portions of her life : the "Anec- 
dotes" of the crimes and atrocities of the epoch, and the "Por- 
traits " of some twenty Grirondins with whom she had been 
intimate. She entrusted her writings to two friends, one of whom 
was arrested ; during his captivity the package was discovered 
and burned. The other concealed his portion of the de230sit for 
eight months, in the hollow of a rock in the forest of Montmo- 
rency ; these paper's still exist. The loss of the othei-s was com- 
municated to Madame Roland in time for her, by a new effort of 
application, to make it good. 

In one of her letters written about this period, she says, "All 
is over : you know the affection which the English call heart-break : 
I am hopelessly attacked, and I care not to stay its effects." She 
now formed a plan for committing suicide, and considered it ma- 
turely for many days. She gives her motives for the project in a 
paper entitled "Last Thoughts." She felt a gloomy satisfaction 
in thus baffling her tyrants, and dying by her own hand, the mis- 
tress of herself and of her actions. Moreover, by perishing before 
her trial and condemnation, her property would descend to her 
daughter, whereas a sentence by the Revolutionary Tribunal in- 
volved of necessity the confiscation of all her possessions. Her 
first resolve was to allow herself to starve, but it was evident the 
jailer would discover and oppose the attempt. She next decided 



* The portrait of Madame Roland, upon the opposite page, is taken from the only original profile of her 
in existence, and which has served as a model for the very numerous copies now in circulation. The name 
of the artist is not known. 



48 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

upon taking opium, and communicated her plan to a friend in 
whom she had confidence. This friend dissuaded her from the 
step ; considering it best that she should fasten the crime of her 
death upon the Tribunal, and feeling that she owed a sacrifice to 
her cause and an example to her friends. Madame Roland re- 
flected, and decided to accept the scaffold, "not with the transport 
of an enthusiast who seeks for martyrdom, but with the stern 
resolution of a stoic who accomplishes a duty." 

She was summoned to appear on the 10th of November, be- 
fore the Revolutionary Tribunal. M. Chauveau de Lagarde, but 
lately the advocate of Charlotte Corday, requested permission to 
defend her. He saw her several times at the Conciergerie, and 
on the 9th, in the evening, was admitted to communicate to her 
his plan of defense. This she discussed with him, and at eleven 
o'clock, as he rose to take his leave, she drew a ring from her fin- 
ger, and gave it to him, saying, "To assume my cause, would be 
endangering yourself without benefiting me. Let me not have 
to deplore the death of an upright man ! Do not come to the 
tribunal ; I shall disavow you, should you do so. Accept this 
ring, the only expression of my gratitude that I can offer. To- 
morrow I shall be no more !" 

During the night which followed, Madame Roland composed 
an address for her own defense. This plea, eloquent and logical, 
is still in existence, though it was not delivered. She was not 
allowed to speak at her trial, and was condemned to death, for 
complicity with the Girondins. She was dressed in white, this 
attire symbolizing, as she said, the purity of her soul. 

Associated with Madame Roland, in the last terrible scene, 
was a man whose resignation was not equal to hers. She devoted 
herself, on the way to the scaffold, to an effort to revive his cour- 
age. It was her privilege to die first, but, unwilling to expose 
him to the horror of witnessing her execution, she renounced it 
in his favor. As he hesitated to accept, she said, "What, do you 
refuse a woman her last request?" He yielded to her entreaties, 



MADAME ROLAND'S CHARACTER. 49 

and Madame Rolaaid witnessed his death without a shudder. 
Then turning to the statue of Liberty, she pronounced these me- 
morable words: "0 Liberty, how many crimes are committed 
in thy name !" Another version of this scene, however, gives her 
apostrophe thus: "0 Liberty! how thou art betrayed!" She 
then yielded herself into the hands of the executioner. 

" Without being regularly beautiful," says a late author, "Ma- 
dame Roland possessed her own style of beauty. Her form was 
elegant, her movements were graceful and natural ; her expres- 
sion was sweet, her smile was winning : her attitude was that of 
candor and serenity : her large black eyes, sparkling with viva- 
city, arched with brows of the same dark chestnut as her hair, 
reflected by their constant changes the passing emotions of her 
heai't. Endowed with a man's character, tempered by a woman's 
graces : with a brilliant and flexible wit : with a sonorous and pli- 
ant voice : possessing infinite power of pleasing in conversation, 
and an eloquence whose source was in her soul : a pupil of Rous- 
seau and Plutarch, and enthusiastically devoted to liberty, she 
subjugated her husband, at the same time sustaining him by her 
inspirations : and she controlled her friends of the Gironde by her 
irresistible ascendency. She was, as it were, a chaste Aspasia, 
but without a Pericles."^ 

Such were the Women of the Revolution. Their lives, as they 
have been thus briefly sketched, shed sufficient light, for our pur- 
pose, upon the mental and moral condition of the country. The 
succeeding epoch demands a more intimate and detailed analysis, 
for it was the disorder and the social anarchy of this period which 
rendered Bonaparte's usurpation possible, not to say desirable and 
beneficial. 

1 Tissot's Hist, de la Rev. Francaise, iii. 10. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Society under the Directory — ^Divorce — Burial of tlie Dead — Dancing Gardens — ^Frascati and 
Tivoli — Supremacy of Matter — National Bankruptcy — Famine — Two Million Francs for a 
Waistcoat — The Cascade of Discredit — Voltaire's God-daughter in Danger of Starving — 
Pamphlets, Caricatures and Fans. 

jST October, 1795, the National Convention terminated its dis- 
graceful career. It was succeeded by a form of government 
imitated from that of the United States, the " Council of Ancients " 
representing the Senate, and the "Council of Five Hundred" 
constituting the popular branch. The Executive power was lodged 
in the hands of five Directors, composing what was called the Di- 
rectory. The principal member of this joint executive was Paul 
Jean Francois Barras, legislator and voluptuary. 

Society, under the Directory, and during the four years of its 
tenure of power, was little better than a masquerade. It was an 
inversion, yet a reminiscence, of the society which existed jjrevious 
to the late episode of anarchy. The Terror had made a new dis- 
tribution of wealth, and had taken power from those in whose 
hands education and tradition had placed it, to entrust it to those 
whom hazard had enriched, and whom the current had swept on to 
fortune. It had perverted morals and denounced religion : it had 
confounded ranks and destroyed caste ; it had ceased to pay hom- 
age to worth or respect to age ; it had transferred the scene of 
family gatherings and of social festivity, from the private house 
to the public garden : society and fashion danced in the open air, 



THE LAW OF DIVORCE. 51 

and bought their invitations at the ticket-office. Punning had 
superseded conversation ; the sexes were reversed, and women 
pursued and captured men. JSTo fruit was forbidden, and little was 
stolen, for there was no sin and no secrecy. Decency was so far 
banished, propriety so far violated, dui'ing this foul interregnum, 
famiHes were so dispersed, relations of friendship and acquaint- 
ance so relaxed, that marriage ceased to be a social institution : 
in this pell-mell of disorder and havoc of anarchy, neither men nor 
women had the time or the opportunity to seek for those condi- 
tions of similar taste and spirit which are essential to a congenial 
union. Citizen Liardot opened a "husband and wife office," 
where he kept a register of names and fortunes, and published a 
semi-weekly "Indicator." Marriage soon became ilHcit, and wed- 
lock rela^Dsed into intercourse. 

The Law of Divorce had fastened upon the country this deep 
social stain. What was before solemn and indissoluble, was now 
precarious and transitory. It became easier to put asunder than 
to join. Libertinism was the pet child of the law, and wanton- 
ness the privileged daughter of the code. The marriage cere- 
mony was styled by Sophie Arnould, and in one of the satirical 
publications of the time, the Sacrament of Adultery.^ Women 
were transferable like season-tickets, and negotiable like state 
stocks : their value fluctuated like real estate ; those that became 
old during the continuance of the law, and before the revival of 
reason, found themselves bereft of all which, at that period of exist- 
ence, renders life desirable — the respect of friends, the companion- 
ship of children, and the approval of conscience. People divorced 
after a week's connection, so that marriage became a lease, and 
separation a clause in the contract, as pithy as a postscript. 
' ' People divorce for dissimilarity of inclination ; they divorce for 
a vacation of six months ; they divorce for nothing. They mari-y 
in order to divorce ; and they unmarry to get married again. At 
the promenade, those who were married yesterday meet, already 

I Paris, Feb. 1T9T. 



52 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

bound by another hymen. They have had time to forget, for 
they bow as to indifferent acquaintances. A countess divorces, 
and marries her footman. Soldiers, on going into winter quar- 
ters, marry for the dead season. Delville exclaims at the tri- 
bune, ' This is a traffic in human flesh that you have introduced 
into France!' The foundlings of the Year Y. number 48,000. 
The Council of Five Hundred receives the petition of a bereaved 
husband, who has lost two wives, who were sisters, and now de- 
sires to marry their mother."^ 

In this race and battle of inconstancy, women bore the palm. 
Out of 5,994 divorces in fifteen months, 3,870 were applied for by 
the gentler sex ; and out of 1,145 repudiations for bad temper, 
887 were the cases of husbands who had ceased to be acceptable 
to their wives. 

After the profanation of marriage came the blasphemy of 
death : the society that had ceased to reverence woman now for- 
got to bury the dead. Death was no longer a warning, for hfe 
was no longer a probation : death was the end, because life was 
the whole. The reign of Terror had made life sweet, inasmuch 
as it made it short : no institution can compare with the guillo- 
tine, in rendering existence material, and making the present 
paramount. So that only those called upon to die heard the 
summons with dismay : those they left behind had no time to 
waste in regret, no affections to perpetuate by remembrance. 
"Death was but an importunate meddler who called the guests 
from table ; those not bidden hardly rose when he entered, and 
neglected to count the empty places when he withdrew."^ 

Coffins were borne to the cemetery upon the shoulders of 
hired carriers. Bodies thus delivered over to impious desecration 
were often warm, and, in more instances than one, were not in- 
animate. The carriers laid their burden down at the doors of 
the taverns, and resuming it after repose, tottered, unsteady with 
Hquor, to the mouth of the common grave. Ragged boys jjlayed 



THE REVIVAL OF PLEASURE. 63 

leapfrog over the coffins, waiting on the tavern steps. N"o one 
was there to protest against the sacrilege, for even a father's 
corpse went unattended by his children, and a sister's hardly- 
lifeless form was thrust away to the gentle charities of a ticket- 
porter. The municipahty were forced to publish a notification to 
the effect that "it was distressed to see with what barbarous in- 
difference were treated by the survivors the remains of persons 
who should have been dear to them," and to decree that "an offi- 
cer of pohce, with crape about his hat, should follow each coffin 
to the grave." 

Those that hved, lived to outrage propriety and defy con- 
straint. The young, whom five years of fasting and deprivation 
had made clamorous and impatient, the middle-aged, who turned 
with horror from the barbarities of the present, and recalled with 
delight the amiable sociabilities of the jsast, were impelled, the for- 
mer by nascent passions claiming the gratification due to their 
age, the latter by the revival of habit and the promptings of me- 
mory, into a whirl of turbulent and fantastic excitements. Un- 
able to reconstitute society, with its system of checks, of control 
and of compensations, they restored only its pleasures, its frivoli- 
ties and its vices. The Rejjublic had begun to create disgust, with 
its hard, anti-social requisitions, its Spartan pretences and its re- 
pulsive practices. The reaction was profound and lasting. Plea- 
sure was unsatisfactory, unless it was public and ostentatious : 
love undesirable, unless gross and scandalous ; debauch and riot 
were unattractive, unless spiced with personal encounters and 
brutal sensuality. The smouldering energies, the smothered and 
suppressed vitality of la Jeune Prance, broke into a violent and 
consuming flame, and the beauty, and strength, and emotion, and 
sentiment, that had been gathered during the Revolution and the 
Terror, were now spent with lavish and jorodigal hands. " Girls 
were beset by a sudden impatience : their hearts had arrived at 
the age of dreams, and their persons at the age of coquetry, dur- 
ing the sombre years of -anarchy ; and they threw themselves 



54 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

headlong into the vortex of pleasure, that they might regain the 
time which they had lost, though not employed."^ 

Paris now possessed six hundred and forty-four pubhc ball- 
rooms and dancing gardens. The society that aspu-ed to elegance 
secured admissions by subscription ; visitors without pretension 
paid as they went. Orphans danced to forget the guillotine ; 
lovers, bereaved, pirouetted to drown the memory of the scaffold. 
Tears were quickly dried during this season of oblivion, and oaths 
that should have been eternal, vows registered in heaven, were 
as carelessly recalled or disregarded. The bacchanal became epi- 
demic, and soon all France fell into the measure, and danced an 
immense and frantic rigadoon. 

The most famous and most fashionably attended of the danc- 
ing gardens were Tivoh and Frascati, both bearing Italian names, 
and in then- embellishments and scenery, being souvenirs of the 
environs of Rome. The dances, composed with mathematical 
precision, were executed on the part of the gentlemen with stu- 
died vehemence of body and hmb, and on the part of the ladies, 
with the blandishments of languor, attitude and coquetry. Each 
figure ended with a tableau — in which the spectacle of arms en- 
twined, of gauze conveniently indiscreet, of eyes that asked and 
other eyes that answered, of lips that trembled with invitation or 
whispered encouragement or smiled consent, in an atmosphere of 
music and moonlight, was one that, more than any other illus- 
tration of national manners, has shocked history and offended 
posterity. 

Matter being now supreme, bodily strength, the perfection of 
form and the cultivation of the hmbs, became objects of deep con- 
sideration. The dangers of the streets and the necessities of de- 
fense had rendered a vigorous fist and a pliant staff essential. 
So, from the perversion and excess that marked the epoch, force 
soon came to take precedence of intellect, and muscle became a 
substitute for brains. Men educated their bodies with earnest 



THE EMANCIPATION OF WOMEN. 55 

isolicitude, and strove to be at once plastic and ponderous. Tliey 
practised the arts of the Gymnasium and revived the Olympic 
Games. They aimed at the glory of Hercules, and their emula- 
tion was the emulation of Centaurs. Their ambition was to be 
athletic, massive, pagan ; and they spent their lives in the disci- 
pline of their limbs and the development of their persons. 

So far was partisanship carried, that the streets were unsafe 
and life was insecure. Opinion was manifested in the style^of the 
hair, in the form of the garments, in the color of the fabric ; and 
all were ready, in the maintenance of their opinion, to resort to 
the argument of blows, at the promenade, the ball-room, or the 
theatre. Combats on the highway, duels in the pubUc thorough- 
fares, hand to hand struggles on the brink of the fish-ponds, were 
of daily, nay hourly, occurrence. The theatres were the rendez- 
. vous of party spirit, and the scenes of party violence : the Vaude- 
ville was in the interest of the Royalists ; the Comedie Fran9aise 
in that of the Jacobins : allusions which could be applied or tor- 
tured into an application, were the signal for bravos or for hisses. 
Even music was political, and every popular air, from the Mar- 
seillaise to the Qa ira, was made to breathe menace or to whisper 
sympathy. The police was powerless against disorder so univer- 
sal, and no longer sought to repress such violence as sprang from 
party and political rancor. 

Women became Amazons, then viragos, then men.^ Their 
emancipation from restraint made them boisterous and masculine. 
They lived in the open air, racing like Atalanta, or playing truant 
from home like Hero. They no longer gave suck to their infants ; 
herds of goats waited idly at the street corners to furnish the 
nourishment which mothers refused. "Adieu, sweet fireside 
companion ! Adieu, gentle wife and modest hearth-stone ! Adieu, 
dear providence of home ! Adieu, the careful housekeeper whose 
heart was- domestic and whose children sat upon her knees ! 
Women now require the street. They carry leather-handled whips. 



56 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

and with gloved and gauntleted hands, they saw the rebellious 
mouths of horses."^ Thus theyUved, imitators of Jehu and rivals 
of Automedon, tiU the municipality, shocked and outraged, for- 
bade, by pubhc edict, the indecent exhibition, and prohibited fe- 
male equestrianism. 

This was the period of the depreciation of money, with the 
fearful miseries and calamities it entailed. Assignats were printed 
by milhons of reams, and on certain days the amount manufac- 
tured reached the sum of one hundred milhons of francs. The 
government was on the verge of bankruptcy, if the paper-mills 
gave out. The dejDreciation was called the Cascade of Discredit. 
Prices became absurd, incredible : ninety-eight francs for a pound 
of candles : one hundred and fifty francs for a handkerchief : four 
hundred francs for a straw hat : eight hundred for a cravat : three 
thousand francs for five quiU pens : four thousand francs for a 
cord of wood : and five thousand francs for two dozen crash tow- 
els. A woman that cried radishes earned a thousand francs, in 
assignats, in one day : and the journeyman who had worked an 
hour, was paid by a bunch of assignats bigger than his two fists. 
" When a man of our time reads these prices, he may easily ima- 
gine himself to be perusing a romance of figures, a fairy tale of 
addition, or a journey in the kingdom of extravagance, by some 
Swift in a state of hallucination : for the actual and positive rise 
in the value of the necessaries of life seems to defy credence and 
to mock possibility."^ 

The state of things, financially, was such that many who had 
been rich, were now forced to dispense with the use of salt : that 
landlords, who had signed leases before the Revolution, and were 
consequently paid in assignats, at their apparent value, could 
not purchase a dozen needles with the rent of a house for one 
year : that persons receiving annuities and pensions, got but one- 
twelfth of then' due, and must wait thirty-seven years for then- 
arrears ; and that men, women and children died of hunger and 

1 Soc. Fraup. sous le Uirectoire, 1S5. "^ Ibid. 14ti. 



BANKRUPTCY AND SPECULATION. 67 

cold. Women were seen struggling witli dogs in the mud at night 
for the possession of a half-gnawed bone ; a man died in a pubhc 
square, and in his mouth were found blades of grass and stems of 
plants, at which, in the agonies of starvation, he had snatched. 
Water was as dear as wine : horseflesh took the place of beef.^ 
Sugar gave out in the hospitals, and in the ambulances of the 
armies there were no more wooden legs ! ^ 

A national bankruptcy, amounting to twenty-three thousand 
millions of francs, was one of the first fruits of this fearful system 
of credit — a system "which might, perhaps," says LacreteUe, 
' ' have been maintained for six months longer, by guillotining four 
or five millions of inhabitants, " ^ and thus adapting the population 
to the finances. 

While France was languishing under the regime of paper 
money, foreign speculators — their governments possessing a me- 
tallic currency — swooped down upon the merchantable riches of 
the country, with that precision of poise and certainty of capture 
which characterizes specie as distinguished from paper, and cash 
as compared with credit. The Germans and Dutch bought and 
exported the yield of the finer wines ; the Russians, not yet em- 
barrassed by the drain of war, purchased the family diamonds 
which had escaped the spohations of the Terror. The English ob- 
tained, and transported across the channel, choice collections of 
medals, engravings, paintings and books. 

Enormous and dazzling fortunes were made, in the midst of 
this penury of the nation and exhaustion of the exchequer, by 
stockjobbers and money brokers. The Bourse controlled the Di- 
rectory. It fixed the daily value of the specie currency of France ; 
it appointed daily, for the morrow, the rate of exchange between 
the louis d'or and the assignat. On the 6th of June, 1796,* it ran 
the louis to the value of twenty-three thousand francs in paper. 
" The brokers were the tyrants of credit, the arbiters of price ; they 
controlled the pulse of the expiring pubhc fortune, depressing, 

1 Paris, 1796. s Ibid. 1797. 3 Lac. Dir. Ex. i. 81. 4.Conseur des Journaux, 1796. 

8 



58 THE COUKT OF NAPOLEON. 

reviving, checking and resuscitating it at will. The value of the 
louis was ticketed on the veal pies in the windows of the pastry 
cooks ; and the passer-by who had read the figure 1,000 at noon, 
might read 1,500 an hour later." ^ 

The accumulations of wealth were monstrous, and the uses 
made of it as impiously luxurious as the excesses of Belshazzar. 
Clerks, who but lately arrived in rags from some distant province, 
now possessed palates so pampered and tastes so fastidious, that 
their tables must be spread with golden pheasants, with lake 
trout, and with pineapples from the tropics ; they were drawn 
through the streets by twelve horses ; and they paid two million 
francs for a waistcoat. They held lotteries in which every ticket 
won ; they gave balls in which the company was so choice and 
parvenu, that a lady of the late royal household, who asked for 
an invitation, could only be gratified with a " billet d'escalier " — a 
ticket to stand upon the staircase ! They were so lavish of pin- 
money to their wives, that the latter would risk a million upon 
the turn of an ace. They had literary taste, too, and would ex- 
tend their patronage to poets that were an-hungered: "their 
opulence was won to smiles by the verses of some Virgil who had 
fasted, or of some Horace at half price." ^ 

Napoleon, writing from Paris, during this period, to his bro- 
ther Joseph, at Genoa, says : " Luxury, pleasure, and the arts are 
reviving here, in a wonderful degree : Phfedre was performed yes- 
terday at the Opera, for the benefit of a retired actress ; the crowd 
was immense as early as two o'clock, although the prices were 
trebled. Equipages and elegantly dressed gentlemen are reap- 
pearing : they only recollect as a long dream, that they have ever 
ceased to shine. Libraries, historical lectures, courses of botany, 
chemistry, astronomy, succeed each other in rapid variety. Every 
thing is accumulated in this country to distract and embellish life ; 
the public tears itself violently from its reflexions : how can one 
look upon the dark side of things during such an application 

1 Soc. Franf. 154. ■- Ibitl, 156. 



PETTY BARTER AND SALE. 59 

of the mind, and during an agitation so restless ? Women are 
everywhere : at the theatres, at the promenades, at the libra- 
ries. In the studies of the savans, even, you will find very ele- 
gant ladies. Here, the only spot upon the globe, do they deserve 
to hold the helm : the men are, therefore, madly in love with 
them ; they think of nothing but them, and only live by, through 
and for them. A woman needs to remain six months at Paris 
to learn what is her due, and what empire she may wield." ^ 

The success of speculators on a large scale tempted specula- 
tors in little ; and a passion for trade and barter seized upon the 
entire population. Men and women, whether qualified by edu- 
cation and practice or not, bought, sold and exchanged ; their 
pockets were stufi'ed with samples, now of cambric or sewing- 
silk, anon of soap, rice or gunpowder. Ground floors became 
bazaars ; parlors became store-rooms, bed-chambers granaries, 
dining-tables counters, and the fairest of hands were begrimed 
with charcoal, pepper, suet, coffee and oil. Persons brought up 
to trade sold everything except what they advertised : "the con- 
fectioner sold soap, the hatter sold butter, the grocer sold books, 
and the apothecary sold shoes." A citizen whose antecedents 
had poorly qualified him for his new calling, invited purchasers 
to examine his stock, consisting of " two bronze horses, six hun- 
dred thousand pounds of good prunes, at thirty-three sous a 
pound, and a superb electrical machine with a glass wheel three 
inches thick." Another called attention to a collection compris- 
ing a guitar, a cooking-stove, a mechanical bed for the sick, a 
tambourine, a reindeer skin capable of furnishing an excellent 
pair of tights, and an Ecce Homo. " From the rich man to the 
poor, from the master to the valet, runs a chain of purchase and 
sale, of re-purchase and re-sale, of again buying in and again 
selling out : from pocket to pocket, from hand to hand, the arti- 
cle passes, passes, passes, gaining, gaining, gaining, or perchance 
losing, losing, losing." 

1 M6inoires du Roi Joseph, i. 133. 



60 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

The municipality were unable to suppress or to interfere with, 
this disgraceful and unproductive practice. A castigation now 
came from the stage ; at the close of the famous farce of ' ' The 
Fashionable Tea-Party, or A Thousand Pounds of Sugar," the 
actor St. Maurice, addressing the audience and not the charac- 
ters in the play, said in tones half of indignation and half of per- 
suasion : "Abandon, ladies, let me implore you, abandon this 
scandalous traffic, which devours the public substance and de- 
grades the human name. Nature has bestowed upon you the 
talent of amiabihty and the graces of feature. Use them, I be- 
seech you, to embellish life and dignify society, and seek no longer 
to adorn commerce or to add lustre to bargain and sale."^ 

The success of this unskilled speculation and of these chance 
per centages, was of short duration. The small gains were speedily 
lapped up and passed into the remorseless maw of the heavier 
operators. The rich became richer and the poor poorer. General 
de Moutalembert, at the age of eighty-three, and after sixty-five 
years of active service, sold his furniture for food in the year V. 
Bomare, the author of the Dictionary of Natural History, was 
reduced -to two ounces of black bread a day. Priville, the actor, 
lately in the annual receipt of forty thousand francs, begged and 
was refused admission to the Incurables : as did Balbatre the or- 
ganist, to whom the Duchess of Choiseul had given one hundred 
louis for tuning her piano. The dramatic woi'ks of Corneille, 
having outlived the period during which copyright upon them 
was due to his heirs, had fallen into the public domain : but in 
view of the fact that Toltaire's god-daughter, Dupuis Corneille 
Dangely, was in danger of starvation, the theatre Peydeau re- 
stored the author's ten per cent, in her favor, upon Don Juan 
and the Liar.* 

The fugitive literature of this period — pamphlets, satires, car- 
icatures — forcibly illustrates these singular features of society. 
Their titles indicate their themes — themes of poverty, national 

1 Son. Franj. sous le Directoire, 168. Ibid. IGC. 



LITERATURE OF THE DIRECTOEY. 61 

degradation, stock-jobbing, debauchery and violence : The Vul- 
tures of the Eighteenth Century : The Grumbler : Intriguers and 
Plunderers : Discourse upon Tombstones : Women shall no lon- 
ger lead us, or the Triumph of Beasts of Burden : The Gymnast's 
Programme : Our Follies, or the Memoirs of a Mussulman : The 
Rusty Turnspit of Gentlemen once in easy Circumstances : Eve- 
rybody has a Finger in the Pie, or the Mania for Trade : Curious 
and Yeritable History of the Parvenus of the Revolution : Tour- 
nament of Don Quixote against a Windmill : The Ventriloquist, 
or the Hungry Stomach : The Last Cry of Humanity and Reason : 
We are dying of Hunger, the People are weary, and this must 
come to an End. Caricatures represented fish-women bestow- 
ing alms upon gentlemen of property : and fans intended for 
"pensioners, persons in the receipt of annuities, and who but 
lately enjoyed so much a year," bore an inscription composed of 
the inflection of a very suggestive preterit : I was, thou wast, 
he was : you were, they were, we all were.^ 

I Soc. Frang. sous le Directoire, 167. 



CHAPTER Y. 

Fashions of the Terror and Directory — Classic Nudities — Iphigenia and the Vestal Virgins in 
Paris — ^Fatal Consequences — Cravats, Smallclothes, and a new Pronunciation — Magazines of 
Fashion. 

MARIE ANTOINETTE and her retinue set the fashions up 
to the period of the first revolutionary outbreak : M'Ue Ber- 
tin was the court mantuamaker. During the Terror, fashion be- 
came democratic, and a style of costume prevailed which gave 
rise to the descriptive expression, the " anarchy of taste." Ideas 
were borrowed from foreign nations, and scraps of attire were 
adapted from distant people, or revived from remote ages. The 
momentary rage for English fabrics and English styles speedily 
gave way to the belief that antiquity — Greek and Roman anti- 
quity — with some modifications to suit the chmate and the epoch, 
would best furnish the RepubHc's wearing apparel. David, the 
painter, strengthened this conviction by his choice of antique sub- 
jects, and his preference either for flowing drapery or the nude 
flesh. Two assembhes, La Societe R^publicaine, and Le Club R^- 
volutionnaire, made the subject of a national costume the theme 
of debate. "A mother of a family" appealing to the former of 
these for the means of " dressing herself in the antique style," was 
sent with two members to the costumer of the Theatre Fran^ais, 
" that he might show the lady how properly to cut her cloth." 
A deputy exhibited at the Annual Gallery of Art the design of 



FASHION AND TASTE. 63 

a republican sans-culotte attire, which he proposed that every 
Frenchman should assume at the age of twenty-one. 

From the experiment of the "mother of a family," speedily 
proceeded a multitude of mythological and classic fashions : robes 
a la Flore, a la Diane, a la Vestale, tunics a la C^r^s, a la Minerve, 
jackets a la Galatee, a la Sunrise. A peculiar style, the Om- 
phale, required a train sufficiently long to allow the end to be 
brought back and tucked into the girdle. M'Ue Nancy was the 
mautuamaker for those who affected the Greek revival ; Madame 
Raimbaut for those who preferred the Roman. Coppe was the 
ton shoemaker, though shoes were now called buskins. His 
price was sixty francs a pair, but purchasers could forget the 
cost in the consciousness that the article was " singularly fresh, 
eloquent and poetic." Coppe was one day summoned to the 
house of a lady who complained that her buskin burst the first 
time she tried it. Coppe examined it, and then pronounced the 
following opinion, with all the solemnity of a verdict : " Madame, 
I'll lay my life you walked in it !" 

Thus far, at least, the styles of dress for women were decent, 
indeed modest. The throat and arms were covered, and the 
stuffs enaployed, principally silk and woollen, were too heavy and 
opaque for indiscreet revelations. The convenience, the relief, of 
loose garments, was such that it was soon thought tha,t garments 
still looser and lighter would be still more convenient. So robes 
that concealed the bosom and the arms were called robes "a, I'hy- 
pocrite," and all who could abandon them did so. This was the 
age of muslin, gossamer, tissue, filigree and gauze. Starch was 
laid under interdict, and the only permissible color was pure 
white. The newspapers were filled with allusions, now serious 
and now jocose, to the prevailing taste. One published an asser- 
tion made by Dr. Desessarts, that "he had seen die more young 
ladies, since the introduction of these ' begauzed nudities,' than in 
the previous forty years." Another described a lady of its acquaint- 
ance as attired " in a transparent robe of muslin, through which 



64 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

was to be seen her form closely fitted by a justaucorps of pink 
silk, her thighs encircled by rings studded with diamonds." The 
same paper celebrated the existing mode in verse, of which the 
following lines are a fair specimen : 

" Grkee a la mode, 
Une chemise suiHt, 
Une chemise suffit, 
Ah ! que c'est commode ! 
Une chemise suiBt, 
C'est tout prolit !" ' 

As the Grreek and Roman costume did not admit of the introduc- 
tion of pockets, a lady of fashion was obliged to dispeiase with 
such anti-classic receptacles ; she therefore sheathed her fan in 
her girdle, dropped her purse into her bosom, and gave her hand- 
kerchief to her lover or aspirant to carry at her side. 

Those were the most successful votaries of fashion who could 
best drape themselves after a bas relief from Athens, or could the 
most nearly approach the simplicity of sculpture. It was not 
only in the evening, by moonlight, or under the dim revelations 
of Chinese transparencies, that they assumed the attire of Vestal 
virgins : it was in this costume that they ^breakfasted in the 
morning and shopped at noon. The ladies in the streets were 
white as phantoms, and they flitted like ghosts awaiting cock- 
crow. The maiden and the matron were alike undistinguishable 
in their dress from women of bad life, except perhaps that the lat- 
ter were the most chaste in their selection of a model, for they 
adopted the costume of Iphigenia in Aulis.^ 

An elegante of this period was expected to dress, if aspiring 
to the consideration of a merveilleuse, somewhat after the follow- 
ing fashion : Her hair was short, and fell in crisp curls about her 
ears and over her eyes ; her gown, usually of muslin or cambric, 
was so short-waisted that it cut the bosom in halves ; the sleeves 

1 Palis, Oct. 1T98. 'J L'Euiope sous Napoleon, de Capefigue, i. 187. 



FATAL EFFECTS OF THE NEW COSTUME. 65 

were so tight that the arms became red from suspended drcula- 
tion ; the skirt of the gown was short in front, and displayed the 
feet and ankles ; behind, it was long enough to drag upon the floor, 
though not sufficiently so to assume the importance of a train. 

" How," wrote Dr. Desessarts, the Nestor of medicine, " how 
can I refrain from speaking of the evils multiplying every da}', 
under the influence of these incomprehensible fashions ? Can I 
ever efface from my memory the image of that young lady who, 
in the full enjoyment of health at six o'clock in the evening, and 
resplendent with all the charms and graces of youth, attended, 
at nine, in a costume bordering upon the nude, one of those as- 
semblies that so resemble the saturnalia of Rome, and returned 
home at midnight benumbed with cold, her chest oppressed, her 
throat parched and hacked by a violent cough, her reason waver- 
ing and her blood wild with fever ? Can I ever forget how our 
art was powerless to relieve her, and how she expiated, in the 
long agonies of consumption and in a premature death, the im- 
prudence of having revealed what modesty should have taught 
her to conceal ?" 

Parisian fashions have from time immemorial been conta- 
gious, and it is not singular that we should read in the Russian 
annals of this epoch, that the Princess Tufaikin fell a victim, at 
the age of seventeen, to the French epidemic and to the impru- 
dence of having unduly exposed herself to the inclemency of the 
St. Petersburg season. 

The styles of dress for gentlemen presented a singular con- 
trast. They are thus described by a late author : " By the side 
of ladies thus seeking for all the coquetry and allurements of 
costume, and who recommend themselves by their very indel- 
icacy, one would say that the men, in a spirit of sacrifice and 
self-immolation, desire to play the part of foils. They offer their 
arms to ladies decked with ribbons, spangles, flowers, plumes, 
feathers and tufts ; but they themselves appear habited as Eng- 
lish rustics. Not that their garments are those of common life, 



66 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

or are not made to measure : their attire has been a matter of 
deep and serious consideration ; but they apply themselves to 
appearing untidy, they aim at being soiled, tumbled and uncared 
for, as if they sought to prepare the costume of Robert Macaire 
for the masked balls of the future. They require the scissors of 
the tailor to spoil a garment after a particular manner ; and they 
have haberdashers of great renown to equip them in the guise of 
caricatures. That bottle-green coat, with pearl buttons — a coat 
which purposely calumniates its wearer's form, and which seems 
fashioned to avenge hunchbacks upon the person of an upright 
man — was cut by the famous Saul Heyl. Heyl gives his customers 
the air of busts shrouded in bags and mounted on stilts. 

"The cravat is an affair of profound importance. No one 
wears a proper cravat who has not about his neck an enormous 
muslin goitre. Professors will inform you that a cravat must 
caress the under lip with its upper edge, so that the head, sup- 
ported upon this pedestal, as it were, may produce at a distance, 
the effect of a Bologna sausage. The button of the breeches must 
be skillfully looped at the knee, to give to the leg a dehciously 
tortuous and bandy aspect. 

" They adopt in their conversation a voice like that of invalid 
women, an infantine lisp, an extinct and inaudible utterance. 
They have muscles able to kill an ox ; and they appear to have 
a throat so delicate that a consonant would rasp it raw. They 
put the alphabet upon the bed of Procrustes. The French lan- 
guage — so majestic with its resounding and rolling R, allyuig the 
noble rhythm of the Latin with the musical pomp of modern 
Itahan — is nothing more than a warble. Lisping has succeeded 
pronunciation. The R was banished first, and fashion now insists 
upon proscription after proscription. The D is next cut out from 
ma-^me, for the better euphony of the word. Ch is forced to 
yield its place to S, in order not to startle the " sarmes " of a 
belle, and Gr is altogether too guttural to figure in a mention of 
her " anzelic visase." So, from suppression to suppression, from 



EXACTIONS OF FASHION. 67 

substitution to substitution, a few thousand people in France have 
come to speak the most marvellous nightingale dialect that ever 
trifled with the twenty-one consonants !"^ 

Fashion was thus an absorbing avocation, and a jealous and 
exacting mistress. Her votaries were well aware of their own 
follies and extravagance, as the descriptive names that they as- 
sumed, or were made to bear, plainly show. The gentlemen of 
this fantastic period were styled "Incroyables," " Inimaginables ;" 
the ladies were "Impossibles" and " Merveilleuses." Mesdames 
Raguet, Talhen and HameHn, the three beauties of the epoch, 
were the despots that gave the law, in all matters of color and 
cut. Their decrees were so stern that statesmen and diplomates 
were forced, from policy, to submit to them. Talleyrand, in order 
to maintain relations with the society, which, for want of a bet- 
ter, must be considered the elegant society of the period, assumed 
the dress and manners of an Incroyable : his cravat he preserved 
and continued to wear, through all changes, for half a century, as 
a pledge of constancy and immovable opinions.^ 

Scores of magazines, pamphlets and periodicals were pub- 
lished upon this attractive theme : such as the Tableau of Taste ; 
the Correspondence of Ladies ; the War of Black Collars ; Heads 
of Hair Shorn, Hooted at, criticised and treated as they Deserve ; 
Journal des Incroyables ; Eulogy of Wigs ; Parisians, see what 
you were in 1788, and what you are to-day ; Petite Poste ; Paris ; 
Journal of Fashion, Amusements of the Toilet, Secret History of 
all the white Wigs in Paris, The Elegant Manual, How shall I 
Dress, with philosophical Reflexions, and the Portfolio of Love. 

1 Soo. Pranp. 428. 2 Capeflgue, i. 188. 



CHAPTER YI. 

Theresia Cabarrus — Her Marriage with M. de Fontenay — Tallien at Bordeaux — The Pro-Consul 
exercises Clemency — Therosia and Josephine in Prison together — Their Signatures still visible 
upon the Walls — The Fall of Kobespierre — Josephine's Letter to Madame Tallien — Barras and 
Josephine — The Anecdote of Sempronia — The Green Dominos — Rose Thermidor- — Public 
Disapprobation. 

THE name of Madame Tallien has been mentioned as one closely 
connected with the politics, fashion and gaieties of this epoch. 
Her influence upon the period entitles her to a detailed biog- 
raphy. 

Theresia Cabarrus, only daughter of the Comte de Cabarrus, 
a French banker settled in Spain, and of M'Ue Galabert, to whom 
he was secretly married, visited Paris, at the age of sixteen, with 
her father, who was charged with a mission from Charles III., 
King of Spain, to the government of Louis XVI. M. Devin, 
Marquis de Fontenay, counsellor to the Parliament of Paris, was 
the most fortunate of the numerous aspirants attracted by her 
extraordinary Andalusian beauty, and married her. This aUiance, 
which made the fair Saragossan a Frenchwoman, was one of the 
most important events of the epoch : for Th^r^sia Cabarrus was 
the proximate cause of the fall of Robespierre, as the sequel will 
show : she was the occasion of the acquaintance formed between 
Bonaparte and Josephine — an event which made the former gen- 
eral of the Itahan army and leader of the Egyptian expedition. 
That she diverted the course and changed the character of the 
French Revolution, all historians allow : that she was at least a 



THERESIA GABAERUS. 69 

link in the chain of circumstances which made Napoleon emperor, 
no biographer has denied. 

Upon her marriage she became the ornament of the society 
with which she was thrown in contact : Lafayette, then general- 
in-chief of the National Guard, was a constant visitor at her 
house. Upon the arrest of the Comte de Cabarrus at Madrid, 
in 1790, for malversation, she said to Lafayette, " Give me your 
guard, general, that I may fly to the deliverance of my father." 
The restoration of the count to favor, however, rendered unneces- 
sary the execution of this fantastic design. Madame de Fontenay 
was unhappy with her husband : he squandered her dowry, and 
upon the breaking out of the Revolution, was compelled, in order 
to save his life, to join the emigration of the nobles : before leav- 
ing France, however, he restored his wife to liberty, by obtain- 
ing a divorce in due form. A son had been the fruit of the union. 

Madame de Fontenay now became an ardent and active repub- 
lican. She dreamed of little but the practice of civic virtues, and 
of brows bound with civic laurels. She wrote of fraternity and 
emancipation, and joined associations whose object was the sacri- 
fice of personal interest to the general welfare. She addressed a 
communication to the Convention, in behalf of an extension of 
the influence of women, and in favor of the establishment of an 
asylum for orphans ; this is a model of fervid style and of close 
argumentation. In no sense, however, did she quit the legitimate 
sphere of her duties as a woman : she neither became an Amazou 
nor a citoyenne. She joined the party of the Girondins, and em- 
ployed her eloquence and her beauty to assuage the horrors of 
the Reign of Terror. Upon the dispersion of her friends, she fled 
hastily towards Spain, where her father was in the enjoyment of 
fortune and office. An irregularity in her passport drew upon 
her the suspicions of the police of Bordeaux. She was arrested 
and thrown into prison. It is at this point that properly com- 
mences her national and historical career. 

Bordeaux, at the period of which we are speaking, was in the 



TO THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

power of a man who for a time at least, was a worthy rival of 
Robespierre and Danton, in the ferocity of his instincts and the 
unscrupulousness of their gratification— Jean Lambert Tallien. 
This man, the son of a cook, possessed the entire confidence of 
the Jacobins, having prepared and contributed to the execution 
of the tei'rible massacres of September. They made him pro -con- 
sul at Bordeaux, within whose hospitable walls the scattered rem- 
nants of the Girondins had asked and found a refuge. He took 
lodgings upon the square where he had established the guillotine. 
He directed the proceedings of the scafi'old from his window : and 
applauded the most skillful decapitations. After thinning the po- 
litical ranks, he attacked the merchants and the industrial classes. 
He burthened them with taxes and confiscations, and guillotined 
those whose engagements were unfulfilled. Famine followed in 
this train of calamity, and the fierce pro-consul composed new 
lists of proscription from the names of persons designated as 
monopolists and forestallers of the grain market. In all these 
measures he was supported by the Convention, to which he sent 
regular reports of his proceedings, and from which he received 
congratulations upon the salutary severity of his pro-consulate. 

An event now happened which, in giving a new turn to his 
thoughts, suspended these saturnalia of blood. Madame de Fon- 
tenay, whom he had seen at Paris at the house of Madame La- 
meth, was now confined in a dungeon at Bordeaux : she wrote to 
him, imploring his protection or his interference. The terrible 
inquisitor, who did not bear his character written on his person- — 
for he was of noble aspect, but twenty-four years old, impassioned 
and eloquent — visited the fair petitioner in her cell. One glance 
of the enchantress sufficed to open her prison doors : she, on her 
part, expressed, and probably felt, no reluctance in accepting the 
implied conditions of her enlargement. She took up her resi- 
dence in Tallien's house, and speedily obtained over him a con- 
trolling and salutary ascendency. 

A reign of clemeiicy now succeeded this disastrous period of 



TALLIEN TKANSFORMED. 71 

peraecution. Under the benign control of Madame de Fonteuay, 
Tallien became a humane and beneficent citizen. He ceased to 
compose hsts of proscription, and appended his signature instead, 
to columns of pardon and reprieve. The lovely suppliant saved 
many hundreds of lives, and endeared herself to thousands who, 
while condemning the irregularity of her life, could but admire 
the excellence of her heart. On one occasion, the ferocity of 
Tallien's instincts breaking out anew, she arrested the fatal conse- 
quences by asking him for his portrait. A painter was sum- 
moned, and being instructed by Madame de Fontenay to protract 
the work, Tallien was absorbed, to the exclusion of his bloody 
avocations, in the peaceful duty of sitting for his likeness. The 
Marquis de Paroy, who obtained an audience of Madame de Fon- 
tenay, in the hope of enlisting her compassion in behalf of his fa- 
ther confined in prison, was admitted to Tallien's library, now 
transformed into an artist's studio. He has described it as resem- 
bling the boudoir of the Muses : a piano, a harp, a guitar, an easel 
and loose music, a pallet and color-box, brushes and miniatures, 
a writing desk upon which lay an unsigned petition for pardon, 
encumbered the room in picturesque confusion. Tallien was 
seated in a luxurious arm-chair, dividing his attentions between 
the painter and his mistress. The latter was diligently embroid- 
ering upon satin. She permitted the marquis to hope that her 
intercession for his father would be effectual. "Lady," he said, 
on taking his leave, "your talents are universal, but your good- 
ness surpasses them, and nothing can equal your beauty." The 
daughter of Madame de Genlis, afterwards Madame de Talence, 
who owed her life to Madame de Fontenay, said of her, ' ' I wit- 
nessed the good she did, and I saw her tormented by that which 
she was obliged to leave undone." 

The Convention was soon informed of the apostasy of its em- 
issary. Tallien was denounced and recalled to Paris, accused of 
having arrested the Revolution. Madame de Fontenay was in- 
cluded in the indictment, as accessory to the " paralysis of the 



72 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

Republic." Robespierre advised that site be immediately tried at 
Bordeaux by a military commission. She escaped, but was ar- 
rested at Versailles. She was taken to the prison of the Carmes, 
where she was plunged into an underground cell; she received 
insufficient food, and her bed was a pallet of straw, unchanged 
from day to day. In the same prison was confined Josephine 
de Beauharnais ; they often met, and there formed the intimacy 
which was destined, some months later, to bring about the ac- 
quaintance and the marriage of Josephine and Napoleon. 

" A tender friendship," says Lamartine, "united these two 
women, though they had often divided the public admiration and 
that of the leaders of the army and of the Convention. One was 
predestined to the throne to which the love of young Bonaparte 
was to raise her : the other was predestined to overthrow the Re- 
public, by inspiring Tallien with the courage to attack the Com- 
mittees in the person of Robespierre. The captives were con- 
sumed with souvenirs, with impatience and thirst for life. With 
the points of their scissors, with the teeth of their combs, they 
scratched upon the plaster of the walls, initials, dates, and bitter 
invocations to fallen hberty. These inscriptions are still legible : 
"Liberty, when wilt thou cease to be a vain word?" "This is 
the forty-seventh day of our confinement." " They say we shall 
be set at hberty to-morrow." "Delusive hope!" Underneath 
are the three signatures : ' Citoyenne Tallien,^ citoyenne Beau- 
harnais, citoyenne d' Aiguillon.' " ^ 

Madame de Fontenay had been arrested on the 30th of May, 
1794. One of her friends, named T-'scherau-Fargeau, exerted 
his influence with Goffinal and Lavalette to obtain the postpone- 
ment of her trial : in this he succeeded, and meethig Tallien walk- 
ing disconsolately upon the Champs Elysees, he said to him, " Do 
not fear for the citoyenne Cabarrus : she will not be brought at 
present before the revolutionary tribunal." All the efforts of 

1 This signature is singular, for though Madame de Fontenay had lived witli Talhen as his wife, the mar- 
riage ceremony had not heen performed, and she therefore did not bear his name. 
•- Les Girondins, viii. IS."*. 



MADAME TALLIEN. 73 

Tallien in her behalf only served to tighten her chains : it was in 
vain that he claimed her liberty, urging that she was his wife, 
and that he would answer for her good behavior. On the 23d of 
July, Alexandre de Beauharnais, the husband of Josephine, per- 
ished upon the scaflfold : on the 26th, Josephine and Madame de 
Fontenay were to be judged and executed. On the 25th the lat- 
ter wrote as follows to Tallien: "The police administrator has 
just left me : he came to inform me that I am to be tried, and 
consequently guillotined, to-morrow. This is very unlike a dream 
I had last night : I thought that Robespierre was dead and that 
the prisons were open : but thanks to your signal cowardice, there 
will very soon be no one left in France capable of realizing my 
dream." This letter was written in blood. Tallien replied : 
" Calm yourself, Madame, and be as prudent as I shall be cour- 
ageous." The morrow was the 27th of July, the ninth of ther- 
MIDOR. Tallien, in company with Fr6ron and Billaud, had 
plotted the destruction of Robespierre : ascending the tribune, 
and brandishing a poignard aloft, he accused the tyrant of aspir- 
ing to dictatorship and usurpation. The Convention, whose 
members were in personal fear of the growing ascendency of 
Robespierre, eagerly profited by the opportunity, and in the 
midst of tumult and agitation passed sentence of death upon him. 
Robespierre was executed the next day. His fall terminated the 
period to which history has given the name of " Terror." Jose- 
phine and Madame de Fontenay were soon afterwards placed at 
liberty. Madame de Fontenay became Madame Tallien on the 
26th of December of the same year. 

The newly married couple took up their residence at Chaillot, 
just without the walls of Paris. Madame Talhen's existence was 
soon absorbed in balls and concerts ; and she became the fore- 
most in the whirl of gaiety to which Paris abandoned itself upon 
the fall of Robespierre. She invited Josephine constantly to her 
house, and befriended her during the destitution which she suf- 
fered until a portion of the confiscated estates of her husband 

10 



74 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

were restored to her. Josephine and Theresia were now insep- 
arable : a letter from the former to the latter shows to what 
extent they were absorbed in the frivolous excitements of the 
period : "There is to be a magnificent ball at Thelusson's, I hear : 
I do not ask you if you are going, for the fete would languish 
without you. As it appears to me important that our dresses 
should be absolutely ahke, I write to inform you that I shall wear 
a red handkerchief in my hair, after the Creole fashion, and with 
three knots at the temples : we will each of us wear our peach- 
blossom under-skirt. This, which is rather daring for me, is very 
natural for you, who are younger, handsomer jjerhaps, and incom- 
parably fresher. I wish especially to enrage ' les trois Bichons ' 
and ' les bretelles Anglaises.' " These elegant epithets designated 
rival beauties. 

Tallien was now compelled, by the force of a reaction which 
soon set in, to resume his position as an advanced republican, and 
he again professed sanguinary opinions. His wife, occujjied in 
reviving the pleasures and the social amenities which the Terror 
had banished, was somewhat alienated from him, in consequence. 
This antagonism produced a singular effect : the newspapers in 
the interest of Tallien did not hesitate to pubhsh the most imperti- 
nent attacks upon his wife. Thus, the "Tableau de Paris " would 
fill its columns with such gibes and innuendoes as the following : 
"Theresia Cabarrus pretends to be but twenty-three years old ; her 

enemies give her twenty-eight and twenty-nine She is a 

handsome woman, with the exception of her nose, which certainly 
is not attractive. Otherwise, her face deserves nothing but praise ; 
and we must admire the splendor of her form and the beauty of 
her arms. Our description must stop here : those who desire 
further information may apply, in Germany, to M. de Fontenay ; 
in Switzerland, to M. de Lameth ; in England, to M. d'Aiguillon. 
.... As to the character of Theresia, it is not what many peo- 
ple suppose : her coexistence with Tallien reminds one of the 
friendship of the lion and the dog, in the Menagerie If you 



BARRAS AND JOSEPHINE. 75 

ask her, she will talk English, Italian or Spanish ; but we defy 
you, even though you be of London, Naples or Madrid, to under- 
stand one word of the jargon which she offers as specimens of 
these languages." 

In 1795, the Council of Five Hundred succeeded the Conven- 
tion, and Mesdames Talhen and Beauharnais attached themselves 
to the person and interests of Barras. The friendship of the two 
ladies was so sincere that it suffered no interruption from their 
rivalry in love. Both were too well pleased with possessing so 
powerful a protector, and enjoying a credit so unlimited, to endan- 
ger their position by an inconsiderate quarrel. Josephine, whose 
extravagance was at this early pei-iod ungovernable, drew heavily 
upon the purse of Barras and of other intimate friends. It was 
through Madame Tallien that she became acquainted with Barras, 
and it was Barras himself who presented Napoleon Bonaparte to 
her : it was also with Barras that originated the idea of an alli- 
ance between the two. Such is the intimate connection of 
Madame Tallien with the fall of Robespierre and the elevation of 
jSTapoleon. 

The ahenation of Tallien and his wife ended in a virtual sepa- 
ration. Her. scandalous conduct left him no peace at home, and 
the bitter reproaches of the journals and the tribune rendered 
his public life intolerable. He joined Bonaparte's expedition to 
Egypt, and sailed in May, 1798. He occupied a subordinate 
position in the department of Political Economy, together with 
Bourrienne and Regnault de St. Jean d'Angely. Josephine and 
Madame Tallien continued their intimacy, which gave uneasiness 
to Bonaparte, who one evening said to Lefebvre at Cairo, " Lefeb- 
vre, what is Madame Bonaparte doing at this moment in Paris ?" 
" General, she is weeping." "You are an idiot, Lefebvre ; she 
rides every day to the Bois de Boulogne, upon a white horse, in 
bad company." The official journal spoke of Madame Tallien at 
about this period : at a race at la Revolte, a person was knocked 
over and severely injured by Othello, the winning horse : Madame 



76 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Visconti, the Cisalpine ambassadress, sent the unfortunate man to 
the hospital in her carriage, and Madame Tallien took up a col- 
lection in his behalf. An appeal urged by so fair a petitioner was 
not likely to pass unheeded, and a very considerable sum was 
reahzed.^ 

On Bonaparte's return from Egypt — a shght anticipation is 
unavoidable here — Madame Talhen applied herself to dissipate 
his suspicions of the infidelity of his wife ; and his reconciliation 
with Josephine was, in some measure, due to the warmth and the 
address of her representations. After the revolution which made 
Bonaparte First Consul, he ordered her exclusion from the Tuil- 
eries. iSTot being warned of this, she visited the palace, and was 
subjected to the mortification of a repulse. The newspapers not 
venturing to narrate the anecdote in its original form, disguised 
it under the di'ess of a reminiscence of Kome, as follows : " The 
lovely Sempronia, wife of one of the lieutenants that the great 
Csesar left behind him in Egypt to reap the fruit of his victories, 
desired to present herself before the hero of the Nile. The ami- 
able Sempronia possessed infinite grace and countless attractions. 
With so many resources with which to please, how was it possi- 
ble for her to remain constant to a husband now eighteen months 
absent ? Evidence not to be refuted attested the weakness of 
Sempronia. She nevertheless supposed she might appear before 
her husband's friend. Csesar not only refused to see her, but 
directed his wife to deny her admittance. It is well known that 
this great man maintained as a principle that the wife of Caesar 
should not even be suspected."^ 

Madame Tallien was hurt and annoyed at this repulse, and af- 
ter numerous unsuccessful attempts, obtained from Bonaparte a 
rendezvous at a masked ball. Each was to recognize the other by 
the green ribbon with which both dominos were to be trimmed. 
The two dominos met : the one uttered complaints and the other 
offered excuses : the one denounced a system of exclusion which 

1 Moniteur, An VI. 2411. ^ Salgues' Memoirs, iii. 254. 



A SECOND DIVORCE. 77 

tlie other hastened to paUiate : the one demanded admission to the 
Tuileries, which the other dehberately refused. Madame Tallien 
soon justified this harshness by the scandal of a second divorce. 
There is little doubt that she saw Josephine secretly at Malmai- 
son, and that Napoleon was aware of it : he did not object, how- 
ever, the publicity of their intercourse being the only feature that 
displeased him. 

Tallien returned from Egypt in 1801, after an absence of three 
years. Before his departure, his wife had given birth to a daugh- 
ter, who received the name of Th^r^sia Rose Thermidor ; she was 
educated at the expense of Josephine, and subsequently married 
the Comte de Narbonne Pelet. During his absence, she had three 
children, all of whom were entered upon the civil register under 
the maiden name of their mother, Cabarrus. Tallien obtained a 
divorce on the 8th of April, 1802. These three children, two 
of whom were daughters, applied to the government, in 1835, for 
the rectification of the registry of their birth. The tribunal de- 
cided that as Tallien, now dead, had not formally disavowed them, 
and as it had been officially stated in the Moniteur that he had 
made several voyages to France from Egypt, a fact which ren- 
dered the legitimacy of their birth possible in the eyes of the law, 
such a rectification was necessary and proper. The names of the 
three applicants were therefore changed upon the register from 
Cabarrus to Tallien.^ 

The disorders of Madame Tallien's life now drew upon her pub- 
lic disapprobation. The populace in the streets took offence at 
the transparency of her costume, and on one occasion compelled 
her by insulting language and menace even of brutality, to escape 
from the promenade in the carriage of a deputy which fortunately 
was at hand. A portrait of her was exhibited at the Louvre, in 
which she was represented in the prison of the Duchess of Lam- 
balle, holding in her hand the shorn hair of the unfortimate 
victim.^ This was in allusion to a current witticism, to the effect 

1 Gaz. des Tribunaux, Sept. 2S, 1886. 3 Critique du Salon, No. 224. 



78 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

that instead of receiving the aijpellation of " Notre-Dame-de bon 
Secours," in acknowledgment of her humanity at Bordeaux, she 
rather deserved that of " Notre-Dame-de-Septembre." This, 
which was due to the royalists, was manifestly unjust and cruel : 
for the September massacres in the prisons, of which Tallien was 
in part the author, occurred long before his acquaintance with 
Madame de Fontenay; and the jest which made her responsible 
for them was as misplaced as it was harsh. 

Madame Tallien soon contracted a third alliance. Though 
her two previous husbands were still living, she married the 
Comte Joseph de Caraman, and by the death of one of the rela- 
tives of her husband, became soon afterwards La Princesse de 
Chimay. She gave birth to three sons, during her long and undis- 
turbed union of thirty years. She resided successively at Rome, 
Florence, Naples and Brussels, being received at court in the 
three former cities. She died in 1835, preserving her remarka- 
ble beauty to the last. The irregularities of her life, which oc- 
curred at a period when society seemed to offer no inducements to 
virtue and no recompense for rectitude, have been condescendingly 
pardoned by her country, in view of her unrivalled beauty and her 
beneficent triumphs. She has left an indehble popularity, and 
occupies a warm corner in the heart of the nation. She is known 
neither as the Marquise de Fontenay, nor the Comtesse de Ca- 
raman, nor the Princesse de Chimay ; her national and historical 
name is Madame Tallien ; one which, as she bore it before she 
possessed it, she continued to wear after she lost it. Tallien him- 
self, when he heard of her third marriage, said, " It is all in vain : 
her name is Madame TaUien : the country wiU remember her 
under that title, long after it has forgotten the Princesse de 
' Chimere.' " 

"She was the ornament," says Thibaudeau, "of every fgte, 
and the soul of eA^ery pleasure : she reigned without the embar- 
rassment of a throne : her empire dried many tears, and I never 
heard that it caused one. I can speak impartially, for I never 




MT "fAILJLIEir 



THE MODERN CLEOPATRA. 79 

saw her except in society, and never once spoke to her. Her 
husband I did not esteem, for I feared his ambition."^ 

" In her person," says Lamartine, " were united the fire of the 
south and the languor of the north. She was the hving embo- 
diment of the beauty of every chmate. She was one of those 
women whose charms Nature employs, as a Cleopatra or a Theo- 
dora, to conquer those who conquer the world, and to subject 
tyrants to tyranny. The Republic seemed to her the Nemesis of 
kings and the Providence of nations. She became the divinity 
of the pardoning power. The love of a woman transformed the 
Terror. Bordeaux forgot its seven hundred victims, and smiled 
at Tallien's oriental pro-consulate."^ 

" In this troop of women," says de G-oncourt, " thus amiable 
beyond propriety and influential beyond reason, among these gay 
and thoughtless usurpers, there were one or two of the family of 
Cleopatra — enchantresses who charm posterity — ^who have but to 
smile at History to obtain History's smile in return. Of these is 
Madame Tallien.^ 

" What a beautiful ambassadress is she, commissioned to re- 
concile women with the Revolution, men with Fashion, commerce 
with the Republic and France with a court ! She is a Pompa- 
dour after Lycurgus. With magic voice, she recalls mirth and 
festivity from exile : she stretches carpets over the stains of blood, 
and pours out bumpers of Lethe and Nepenthe to a country only 
too glad to forget and too happy to renounce. She reconstructs 
about her a Yersailles of splendor, luxury and debauch : she 
preaches extravagancCj love, music and dancing : she awakens to 
life a society but now given over to death. Aiming at every 
agreeable protectorate, and claiming patronage of all that is ele- 
gant and attractive, she summons Art home from emigration, and 
honors the Picture Gallery with her last new head-dress. She 
takes the theatres under her tutelage. When she appears at the 

1 M6moirea sur la Conrention, i. 181. 2 Les Girondins, vii. 830. 

? The portrait of Madame Tallien, on tbe opposite page, is from an original belonging to tlie iiistorlcal Gallery 
at Versailleil. The name of Ihe artist is not Itnowii. 



80 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

promenade in her blood-colored coach, clothed in a white cloud 
of muslin, Paris bends before her as to the soul and fortune and 
genius of the Directory. 

' ' Madame TaUien is the fauy of the Luxembourg. She orga- 
nizes its galas and parties of pleasure, and illumines them with 
her presence and her smile. She claims the pianos of the civil 
Ust, whose melodies had been suffered to slumber, and gives them 
to hands worthy of re-awakening them. She fills the palace of 
the Directory with the choice music of Marie Antoinette : and 
she saves from ruin the declining art of Sevres, by an uncontrol- 
lable caprice for porcelain."^ 

What a flood of light do these passages throw, not only upon 
the age to which they refer, but upon the genius of the French 
people ! How impossible, out of France, would be such a char- 
acter and such commentators ! 

1 Sue. Fran5. SOO. 



CHAPTER VII. 

France prepared for a social Change — Bonaparte lands at Frejus — Is hailed as a Deliverer from 
Anarchy — A. Deputy dies of sudden Joy — Bonaparte arrives at Paris — The Purpose of this 
Volume. 

EVENTS, as we have shown, were ripe for a change, in 1799. 
France awaited, almost with impatience, the accident or the 
man which should be the instrument of her deliverance. The 
indications of the existence of a deep desire for relief, in the 
hearts of the people, were visible and legible to those who could 
read the signs of the times. The Terror had become infamous in 
conversation and in print ; the Convention was remembered only 
with contempt, and mentioned only with ridicule. The carica- 
tures, pasquinades and libels of the day were deadly satires upon 
the manners, the pretenses and the failures of the Republic. The 
tricolored cockade was no longer a fit ornament for the person of 
a woman ; engravings represented it as the appropriate badge of 
the Furies of the Guillotine. So oppressive was the memory of 
the Republic, that the virtues it had affected, patriotism, sobriety, 
self-sacrifice, were now offensive and odious. Ostentation of sim- 
phcity and of devotion to the commonwealth, had disgusted soci- 
ety even with honest conviction and with sincere practice. The 
very frivolity of the manners and dress of the incroyables and 
merveilleuses argued a monarchical tendency, or was a monarchi- 
cal reminiscence : for the excess of their absurdity showed the 
depth of the reaction. The Revolution, which commenced in 

11 



82 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

violence, lay now exhausted in folly ; the people that had shed 
blood in torrents now could not pronounce their R's ; the nation 
was sated with license and debauch, fatigued with anarchy and 
riot, decrepit from early vice and undue and precocious gratifica- 
tion. Emancipation from the proper prescriptions of nature and 
the regulating instincts of conscience ; emancipation from the law, 
from the traditional requirements of society, from the obedience 
due to religion and the deference due to good taste — in one word, 
emancipation from all humanizing influences and all controlling 
restraints, had been the one marked feature of the period — a 
period of perversity and disruption — without parallel in the his- 
tory of Europe. 

Napoleon Bonaparte was at this epoch in Egypt, where he 
had apostrophized the pyramids and exterminated the Mame- 
lukes. Of the true situation of his army but little was known, 
and Paris was agitated by contradictory reports, which alternately 
made him victorious before Constantinople or humihated at St. 
Jean d'Acre ; he was now the victim of a revolt, and anon the 
terror of the Sultan. Suddenly the telegraph conveyed to the 
wonder-stricken city the tidings of his disembarkment at Frejus. 
The general had suddenly quitted the army of Egypt, where dis- 
aster was accumulating against him, and, favored by auspicious 
winds and served by a concurrence of circumstances, baffling and 
outsailing the English squadron, he touched the French coast on 
the 9th of October, 1799. The harbor of Frejus was speedily 
covered with boats fiUed with men and women, anxious to see 
the hero whose name had become immortal, and for whose ru- 
mored death the British government had but lately ordered a 
salute of twenty guns. The sanitary regulations of the port were 
violated, for Bonaparte was in no humor to serve a tedious quar- 
antine : at noon he set foot upon the soil of his adopted country. 
He set out at once for Paris ; his journey was an ovation, varied 
by occasional incidents of attack and delay, but which seemed at- 
tributable rather to highwaymen than to political opponents. The 



BONAPARTE AT PARIS. 83 

enthusiasm of the people of Lyons, who had suffered severely from 
anarchy, knew no hounds : a poetaster of the city composed an 
impromptu entitled " Le Retour du Heros," the performance of 
which the impatient conqueror was compelled to stay to witness. 
The cities on the route were illuminated and dressed in flags : 
honors due only to sovereigns were spontaneously bestowed upon 
him, from Frejus to Paris. His name was the watchword of 
those who hoped for a return of tranquillity — even though it were 
the tranquillity of despotism : the rallying cry of all who despaired 
of any liberation from the reign of confusion, but such as a soldier 
could effect — of any escape from the Scylla of civil convulsion, 
but into the Charybdis of a military dictatorship. On the 13th 
of the month, the news of his arrival and of his march towards 
the capital, reached Paris. It was announced to the audiences 
gathered at the various theatres, and produced a whirlwind of 
excitement and long continued vivats. A member of the Council 
of Five Hundred, Baudin des Ardennes, died of joy on hearing 
the intelligence. Joseph and Lucien Bonaparte, together with 
Josephine, at once set out for Lyons, where they hoped to meet 
the returning hero ; but a change of route, on his part, resulted 
in their missing each other, and in his finding his house at Paris 
deserted and forlorn. 

Bonaparte entered Paris on the 16th. Those who had seen 
him upon his departure, recognized him with difficulty upon his 
return. On leaving France, he wore his hair long and powdered : 
his cheeks were hoUow ; his complexion was pale and sickly. He 
came back with short hair, with full cheeks and a skin bronzed 
by an African sun. A detachment of Mamelukes which attended 
him, added to the excitement of the occasion and the novelty of 
the spectacle. He adroitly augmented the curiosity and interest 
of which he was the object, by affecting a desire for retirement 
and solitude. He went out but little, and declined receiving the 
members of the two councils. He withdrew from the Opera Co- 
mique, when embarrassed by the persistent shouts of "Vive 



84 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Bonaparte !" He remained in seclusion, studying the state of par- 
ties, calculating the chances of revolution, planning usurpation and 
plotting his coup d'etat. He was already preparing the 18th Bru- 
MAiRE — one short month distant — which should place the destinies 
of the country in his hands, and present him as the emulator of 
Csesar and the successor of Charlemagne. 

The revolution of this date, the 9th of November, the only 
French revolution which cost no lives and which shed no blood, 
is nevertheless the most important in the modern history of 
France. It is the design of these pages to show its effect upon 
society, morals and manners ; to note the influence of Napoleon 
upon the literature, science and art of his time ; to chronicle the 
processes by which he sought to revive rehgion, to restore the 
sway of pubHc opinion, to resuscitate the amenities of Hfe, to re- 
deem the country from excess and premature decay, and to hft 
from the heart of the nation its weight of lassitude and disgust. 
It will be their purpose to reflect the hghts and shadows of this 
interesting period : making, as far as possible, the actors of the 
drama pass before the eye of the reader, and thus show ahke the 
successes and the failures, of the master spirit of the age. 

Although it is our desig-n to write in the spirit of history, 
which disdains aught but truth, and of philosophy, which aims 
chiefly at instruction, still the plan of the work permits us to de- 
part from the formality of a strict arrangement according to dates, 
on the one hand, and invites, on the other, the admission of inci- 
dent and anecdote, of personal portraits and sketches, and of the 
lesser and lighter chronicles of the time, never without their 
significance in interpreting the heart of society. The collection 
of these, from a variety of sources, has been deemed a labor essen- 
tial not only to impart interest and vitality to the narrative, but 
to render the presentation of the subject sincere, complete and 
impartial. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The Eevival of Manners — Bonaparte urges his Officers to Marry — An Invasion of new Faces 
— ^The first Ladies of Honor — The Households of Josephine, of Bonaparte, his Mother and 
Sisters — The First Reception at the Tuileries — The consular Court established — The Fashions 
of the Period. 

WITH the dispersion of the Council of Five Hundred, the fall 
of the Directory, and the establishment of the Consulate, a 
brighter day dawned upon Trench society. With the return of 
the emigrants and the resuscitation of the Faubourg St. Germain, 
came the revival of manners and the renewal of intercourse. 
Bonaparte felt the necessity of reorganizing the fabric of life, and 
aimed at re-establishing a " social" system by first encouraging a 
" sociable" system. His efforts tended with constancy and zeal 
in this direction, and his plan of effecting a fusion between the two 
camps — between his own, which was to furnish the action, the 
control and the influence, and that of the Legitimists, which should 
contribute the tone, the mould and the form — soon promised to 
be an efficient and a successful one. 

Bonaparte had himself had little or no acquaintance with the 
elegant society of Paris. He had somewhat frequented it, it is 
true, during his vacations at Brienne, but he was too young then 
to form permanent associations or to obtain lasting impressions. 
During the Terror there had been no society, and under the Direc- 
tory there had been no law and no opinion. Josephine was not 
noble — for colonial nobility was unrecognized — and her position, 
before her marriage with Bonaparte, was not such as to give her 



86 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

influence with the royalists after it. Bonaparte, in wedding her, 
supposed himself to be contracting an alliance with a family equal 
to that of the Montmorencies ; and afterwards, at St. Helena, con- 
fessed to a certain degree of disappointment.^ Nevertheless, legi- 
timacy hardly waited for the installation of the First Consul at the 
Tuileries to besiege its doors and throng its ante-rooms. Better 
to judge of, and the nearer to contemplate, the applicants for place 
and favor, Bonaparte ordered a series of dinners for 300 guests 
in the gallery of Diana. These took place regularly on Quintidis 
— the fifth day of the republican decade ; invitations were distri- 
buted, with nttle discrimination, among all who had held a posi- 
tion or exercised an influence. There was no etiquette, and as 
little satisfaction ; for in such a motley group, and at such an epoch 
of transition, there would naturally be no harmony, and as little 
unity. Bonaparte, however, was observing, reflecting, and decid- 
ing : he was choosing the courtiers of his court ; and, in this view, 
scanned faces, asked names, took notes upon station, and made 
studies of capacity. The wits of the time styled these dinners 
" reviews." 

Bonaparte now urged his officers to marriage, and evinced 
marked eagerness for the revival of the courtesies and amenities 
of a well-organized society. " Marry, and open a paiior," he said 
to his generals ; " receive company, and make your house attrac- 
tive." He could not fail to appreciate the influence of woman in 
her domestic relations, though he was never forward to acknow- 
ledge it ; but he plainly acted upon the belief, that to revive 
social order and to compose the agitations that still rendered home 
unalluring and the family tie uncertain, the only plan was to invite 
the aid of wives, mothers, daughters and sisters, in the work of 
restoration. 

The eager obedience of Napoleon's general officers soon ex- 
tended the circle of Josephine's incipient court. It commenced 
on the 30th Pluviose, 1800, with the following ladies,^ as yet hold- 

1 d'Abr. Hist, des Salons de Paris, y. T. i Ibid. v. 82. 



THE CONSULAR HOUSEHOLD. 87 

iug no distinct official position : Madame de Larochefoucauld, 
"short, witty and hunchbacked ;" Madame de Lavalette, "kind, 
engaging and beautiful, in spite of the faint traces of small-pox ;" 
Madame de Lameth, "rotund and bearded, but good and intelli- 
gent in compensation ;" Madame de Laplace, " who had learned 
to make even her courtesy geometrically, to please her mathe- 
matical husband ;" Madame de Lauriston, winning and courteous 
to all ; Madame de Eemusat, a lady of superior intellect and high 
cultivation ; Madame deTlialouet, "too mindful of her past beauty, 
and not sufficiently conscious of her present loss of it ;" and Ma- 
dame d'Harville, "impolite by system, and polite by chance." 
Then followed an invasion of young and pretty faces, consequent 
upon the prompt compliance of the staff with the First Consul's 
desires : Madame Bessiferes, of lively and elegant manners and 
equable temper ; Madame Mortier, an angel of gentleness and ami- 
ability ; Madame Junot, whose courtship and wedding we shall 
have occasion to describe ; Madame Savary, a brunette who in- 
sisted on wearing the colors suitable to a blonde ; and Madame 
Lannes, a beauty of acknowledged European repute. Somewhat 
later, came Madame Duroc and Madame Ney, the former as hard 
and repellant as the latter was winning and prepossessing. 

It was not long before the Consulate began to assume the air 
and etiquette of royalty. Josephine, who had always been fami- 
liar and accessible, ceased to visit, on intimate terms, the ladies 
of her acquaintance, and the wives of the generals. She hardly 
left the Tuileries, except in state ; her friends no longer saw her, 
unless bidden to an audience, or invited to a levee. Suddenly, 
Bonaparte appointed to accompany and attend her, four ladies of 
rank, who formed the original nucleus of what afterwards became 
the Consular, and, still later, the Imperial Household. 

The first of these ladies was Madame de Eemusat, a pattern 
of stately dignity and of kindly influence. She soon acquired a 
great ascendency over Josephine, whose too cordial and conde- 
scending familiarity she stiffened with the starch of reserve and 



88 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

punctilio. Josephine, by nature, would only seek to please, to 
win, and to make herself beloved : under Madame de Remusat's 
tuition and example, she learned to inspire respect and to claim 
the homage due to rank. Madame de Thalouet, Madame de 
Lu^ay, haughty and domineering, and Madame Law de Lauris- 
ton, gay in the midst of reserve, and at once charming and impos- 
ing, were the other thi-ee members of the bodyguard. Calumny 
seems to have spared them, and — a noticeable feature in any 
court — ^there was nothing equivocal in their lives, or contagious 
in their example. Other ladies, in situations less prominent, were 
successively added to the household, and these were still further 
classified, and for the most part titled, on the proclamation of the 
Empire. 

At the same time, Bonaparte formed a small household for 
himself, and upon a similar pattern and scale. M. de Remusat 
became half Chamberlain and half Master of the Horse ; M. de 
Cramayel introduced the ambassadors, and a rigid system of cere- 
monial. Of M. de Lugay it was said that he affected to speak low, 
that his voice might not reverberate through Europe : though he 
must have been convinced, after the fall of Napoleon, that if Echo 
sometimes repeats and prolongs the shock of the thunder, it is 
never Echo which launches it athwart the sky. M. Salmatoris, a 
Piedmontese, was Prefect of the Palace, and Duroc was governor 
of the Tuileries. 

The aids-de-camp at this period were : Auguste de CaffareUi, 
whose niraierous brothers were so selfish, and worked together so 
exclusively for their private advancement, that a relative said of 
them, "Under whatever aspect you regard the ten Caffarellis, 1 
defy you to see more than one ;" Law de Lauriston, grand nephew 
of Law the financier, and one of the first gallants of his time ; 
Lemarrois, loyal, brave and devoted ; Generals Rapp and Savary, 
the former of whom said of the latter : " When I speak to Bona- 
parte, I speak loud : Savary talks to him as if he had lost his 
voice. I speak to him to his face : Savary talks in his ear. 



THE FIRST BALL. 89 

Every one knows what I say, but who the devil can tell what 
Savary says when he whispers ?" Est^ve, who had been a hat- 
ter's apprentice at Montpellier, was the treasurer-general, and 
afterwards intendant of the crown. He died of disappointment 
and chagrin at not being made Duke of Montpellier, under the 
empu'e. 

Madame Lsetitia, Bonaparte's mother, laid the foundation of 
an establishment, at this same period, by appointing to her own 
person an inseparable attendant, Madame de Fontanges : Madame 
Murat — Caroline Bonaparte — was never seen in public unescorted 
by Madame Lagrange, and Pauline, at this time Madame Widow 
Leclerc, rarely ventured into society without her constant chape- 
rone, Madame de Champagny. 

The various households being thus installed and organized, it 
became necessary to open the season and inaugurate the court by 
an official reception at the Tuileries. The invitations were verbal, 
and were delivered by the aids-de-camp and orderly officers. 
Paris was in a ferment of delight at this imminent restoration of 
the elegant distractions and amenities of peace — the resurrection 
of commerce, good manners, and manufactures. A government 
ball at Paris directly or indirectly benefits the whole population — 
one eminently dependent upon the maintenance of luxury : espe- 
cially in this case was the promised festivity grateful to the citi- 
zens, after so many years passed in anarchy and stagnation. 

The palace was profusely decorated and illuminated. Superb 
battle pieces, recalling the fields of the Republic and the early 
Consulate ; standards from Holland, Prussia, Austria : trophies 
from Egypt, statues, groups and vases from Italy ; flowers from 
the green-houses, orange trees in full blossom from the conserva- 
tories, adorned the novel scene. The diplomatic corps was com- 
plete, even to the legation of Lord Whitworth, the English 
ambassador. Old and revived courtiers of a banished and well- 
nigh forgotten dynasty displayed their recovered graces and their 
Bourbon urbanity, by the side of the parvenu retinue and its 

12 



90 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

parvenu master. The costumes were of all ages — a very prism of 
anachronisms — for as yet Bonaparte had not appHed his genius to 
the shaping of garments, the selection of colors, and the regula- 
tion of the fashions. 

The company did not wait long for the hostess and heroine. 
A door was thrown open, and an usher, dressed in black velvet, 
and preceded by six lackeys in green and gold, advanced two 
steps into the room, saying in measured and sonorous accents, 
"Madame! Femme du Premier Consul." The form of this an- 
nouncement, which was unusual, took every one by surprise, for 
the word Madame is, in this sense, at once royal and legitimist. 
The audience rose, and formed itself into lines and passage ways. 
Josephine entered, giving her hand to Talleyrand, Minister of 
Foreign Affairs. She was dressed with elegance and simplicity. 
Her robe was of white muslin, trimmed with festoons of lace : a 
girdle of massive gold encircled her waist, attached in front by a 
pearl clasp. Her bracelets, ear-rings and necklace were of pearls, 
and completed her attire, with the exception of a flame-colored 
Cashmere shawl, negligently thrown over her left shoulder. 

Talleyrand was dressed, not as an ecclesiastic, but as a cabi- 
net minister. His coat was of black velvet, highly embroidered 
at the collar, wrists and pockets : and he wore that very un- 
churchly accoutrement — a sword. Behind Josephine was Madame 
Lsetitia, in a white velvet bonnet trimmed with nacarat feathers, 
a robe of cherry-colored satin, bordered by deep black blonde. 
Her ornaments were antique cameos and engraved shells. M'Ue 
Hortense Beauharnais was dressed in pink, with a wreath of 
roses upon her brow, and emeralds upon her neck and arms. 

Madame Bacciochi, the elder of Bonaparte's sisters, appeared 
in yellow satin flounced with yellow crape, and trimmed with red 
zephyrs : her person was loaded with a magnificent and profuse 
display of corals. Madame Murat, whose wonderfully pure com- 
plexion was always an object of remark and admiration wherever 
she appeared, and whose dress of black velvet showed it to great 



THE FIRST CONSUL. 91 

advantage, was the acknowledged belle of the occasion ; for Paul- 
ine, the unrivalled beauty, was not present. The hem of her 
skirt was trimmed with vine leaves and clusters of pearl grapes. 
Her ear-rings also represented grapes, and were formed of groups 
of rubies. The consular family were followed by four ladies of 
honor, the rear being brought up by citizen Bacciochi, in mili- 
tary uniform, and M. Fesch, the half-brother of Madame L^titia, 
in his ecclesiastic cassock, girdle and calotte. 

Josephine, gallantly led by Talleyrand, made her way through 
the throng to the seats prepared for her and Bonaparte. Two 
arm-chairs, entirely new, made of wood heavily gilt, trimmed 
with green velvet spangled with golden stars, and surmounted by 
eagles in the place of the Gallic cock, had been placed in front of 
the fire-place. She was hardly seated before the drums of the 
consular guard beat to arms, the door of the interior apartments 
was opened, and twelve green and gold valets and five ushers in 
black, marched into the room. One of the latter, taking up the 
announcement which was already heard in the distance, said, 
"Le Premier Consul, Messieurs!" Diu-oc, the governor of the 
Tuileries, with the newly appointed officers of the palace, entered 
first : then came Bonaparte, then Cambacerbs and Lebrun, the 
second and third consuls, and finally the aids-de-camp, the minis- 
ters and a number of orderly officers. 

The two subordinate consuls had donned their official apparel, 
and shone forth in all the effulgence of white and flame-colored 
satin, thickly embroidered, and of hats a la Henri lY., dancing 
with white plumes. Bonaparte, who had ordered this luxury of 
costume in order to strike by contrast, wore a simple military 
frock, with a white waistcoat, and white cassimere pantaloons. 
Top boots, conspicuously spurred, a battle hat under his arm, the 
consular scarf and a sword, completed his attire. A profound 
silence greeted his approach ; he did not wait for the usual pre- 
sentation of the diplomatic corps, but commenced at once his 
round of salutations and his running fire of inquiries. 



92 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

At this initial festivity of the new regime, Bonaparte at first 
so markedly avoided, and afterwards so menacingly interrogated, 
Lord Whitworth, the English ambassador, that the company con- 
strued his attitude and his speech into a semi-declaration of war. 
Meeting one of the late commissaries of the army of Italy, whose 
depredations had been notorious, and whose ill-gotten wealth was 
impudently displayed in the diamonds upon his fingers and in the 
jewels of his hat, Bonaparte said aloud : " Citizen, if a just fairy 
were to touch you with her wand, in the place of these precious 
stones, we should see bread, wine and medicine, stolen from my 
soldiers. Tour splendor is odious, and should bring you before 
the auditor of accounts. Until then, leave my presence : go and 
make merry elsewhere with the spoils of the army." The com- 
missary cowered and slunk away from the palace, overwhelmed 
with confusion and shame. 

The evening advanced ; there was little music, as little con- 
versation, and no dancing. The occasion was rather j)olitical 
than social, and the evident imminence of trouble with England 
was a new element of anxiety. The ambassadors were jore-occu- 
pied, and the guests generally uneasy, while the ladies were visi- 
bly neglected. But the fete, which set the example for others, 
had fulfilled one of the objects for which it was ordered : it had 
drawn many hundreds of thousands of francs into the gaping tills 
of the distressed, but now chuckling shop-keepers. 

As time wore on, and as it became apparent that the nation 
would not resist the re-establishment of a court, Bonaparte gave for 
a time his almost undivided attention to the subject. Old codes of 
etiquette, that could furnish precedents ; old courtiers, who could 
recall forgotten fashions ; old lackeys, who could instruct and 
drill the young, were consulted and pressed into the consular ser- 
vice. Many of the incongruities of the first period of the revival 
now rapidly disappeared, and the circle that gathered about the 
chief of the state and his wife, might already be compared, in point 
of brilliancy and elegance, to that of the brightest periods of the 



THE CONSULAR FASHIONS. 93 

monarchy. The number of those who rebelled against the regal 
and imperial tendencies of Bonaparte, and who grieved at the ac- 
count made of matters so frivolous as fashion, costume, and livery, 
constantly and steadily diminished. 

Under the Consulate, a marked improvement in the fashions 
took place both in fabric and form. The following was one of the 
costumes worn by ladies at dinners and similar festivities. Upon 
the head was a toque, or skull-cap, of black velvet, with two white 
feathers. The bodice was detached from the skirt, and made in 
the form of a spencer ; it bore the name of " canezou," and was 
usually richly embroidered and trimmed with Malines or Valen- 
ciennes lace. The skirt, of fine India muslin, and long enough be- 
hind to form a demi-train, was embroidered along the hem with 
garlands representing oak-leaves, ivy, or jessamine. Mademoiselle 
I'Olive was the embroideress of this epoch. A veil of English 
point lace was often attached to the toque, and allowed to fall in a 
single fold at the side ; a Cashmere shawl of some deep color, and 
usually red, was thrown over the shoulders. Around the neck 
was a long Mexican chain, to which was attached a watch from 
the counter of Leroy. The cost of an equipment of this descrip- 
tion was not far from 7,000 francs, and might be thus divided : the 
shawl, 2,000 francs ; the bodice, or canezou, 500 francs ; the 
skirt, 1,200 francs ; the veil, 1,000 francs ; the watch, 2,000 francs ; 
and the toque, 200 francs. 

Bonaparte, who in 1800 had dechned " accepting from the na- 
tion the Chateau of St. Cloud during the period of his magistracy, 
or for a year after its close," took possession of it in 1802, of his 
own authority, and without further invitation. Mass was said in 
the palace every Sunday, and audience was given to an indiscri- 
minate attendance immediately afterwards. Josephine received 
in the afternoon, though some selection was exercised in admis- 
sions and exclusions. On Sundays,. Wednesdays and Fridays, 
Napoleon gave dinners to twelve or fifteen guests. By degrees 
access to his presence became more difficult, and the approach to 



94 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

his person was purposely surrounded with discouraging formahties. 
Power imposed its charlatanry upon him, and everything about 
him became a copy of Versailles.^ He became very strict in the 
choice of society for Josephine ; he would never admit to the 
court either Madame Graudin, wife of the Minister of Finance, nor, 
as has been narrated, Madame TalUen, the beauty of the Directory. 
The morals of society were improving, though perhaps the im- 
provement was yet but superficial, and consisted rather in a greater 
respect for public opinion and regard for appearance, than in a 
radical change of hfe and conduct. The political prospects of the 
country were brightening ; confidence succeeded to distrust, ac- 
tivity to stagnation, responsibility to corruption. There are few 
examples on record of a more speedy resurrection of society ; and 
if this instance shows the capacity of the country for regenera- 
tion, it also shows how deeply France had taken the lesson taught 
by calamity, to heart, and how ardently it yearned to recover the 
social blessings it had lost. 

It was at this period that Bonaparte took a step which exerted 
an important influence upon the manners and morals of the city 
and the court ; he revived the legal connection between Church 
and State. This measure calls for detailed description, as its bear- 
ing upon the condition of society for many subsequent years was 
close and intimate. 

1 Thib. Hist, tie la Prance, iii. 372. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Religion during the Revolution — Napoleon a Mahometan in Egypt, a CathoUc in France Tlie 

Concordat and the Te Deum — Eighty Ladies present at the Ceremony — A disrespectful Au- 
dience — Epigrams — The Curate of St. Koch and the Danseuse — The Clergy are refractory 

Mass at St. Cloud — The Restoration of the Saints to the Calendar. 

THAT the Revolution uprooted the institution of rehgion, and 
that the Constituent Assembly abolished the clergy, is not sur- 
prising. The priests were possessors of a large part of the soil 
of France, and yet paid no taxes ; they contributed to the support 
of the state as much or as little as they pleased ; their tithes were 
purely voluntary. They constituted a political body, and were 
one of the three orders represented at the States-General in 1789. 
The Constituent Assembly, undoubtedly wise in deciding that the 
clergy should renounce their landed estates, and should abandon 
political authority, erred in suppressing the canonical installation 
of bishops — ^their confirmation by the Pope — and in exacting of 
his Holiness the papal approbation and ratification of these changes. 
It erred still more grievously in demanding of the clergy an oath 
of fidehty to the civil constitution. This oath was forbidden by 
the Pope, and an immediate schism was the consequence in 
France. The priests who took the oath formed the recognized 
or constitutional clergy ; those who refused it suffered interdict, 
but nevertheless clandestinely administered the sacrament to im- 
mense numbers of the faithful. The civil war of La Vendue fol- 
lowed ; and then came the persecution, transportation, and during 
the Terror, the execution upon the scaffold, of the insubordinate 



96 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

clergy ; and, finally, the deistical Proclamation of the Supreme 
Being and the Worship of Reason. This rendered the rupture 
between the Republic and the Vatican complete ; and such was 
the state of things in rehgious affairs upon the usurpation of 
power by Bonaparte.^ 

Napoleon has left ample records of his own opinions upon the 
subject of a state religion: "Man," he said, many years subse- 
quent to this period, " man, once launched into life, asks himself 
the question, "Whence do I come ? What am I ? Whither am I 
going ? These are aU mysterious questions which precipitate him 
toward rehgion. We hasten to meet it, a natural incHnation 
leads us toward it ; but education arrests us : education and his- 
tory are the two great enemies of true rehgion, thus disfigured 
by the imperfections of men. Why is the religion of Paris differ- 
ent from that of London or of Berlin ? Why is the religion of 
St. Petersburg distinct from that of Constantinople ? Why is the 
latter different from that of China, Persia or of the Ganges ? Why 
is the rehgion of antiquity different from that of to-day ? Rea- 
son, staggered by these questions, returns back upon itself, ex- 
claiming that religions are the children of men. We believe 
willingly in God, because everything around us proclaims him, 
and because the greatest minds have acknowledged him — not only 
Bossuet, whose business it was to preach him, but ISTewton and 
Leibnitz, whose investigations led them elsewhere. But we know 
not what to think of the doctrines we are taught, and we stHl find 
ourselves to be watches which tick, though we cannot discover 
the watchmaker."^ 

That he believed religion to be necessary to society, we know. 
"In the midst of contradictions," he said, "man feels an impe- 
rious and irresistible impulse to form for himself a definite belief ; 
and he does form one, either true or false, ridiculous or sublime. 
Everywhere, in every age and in every country, in antiquity and 
in modern times, in civilization and in barbarism, we find him at 

1 Thiera: Cons, et Bmp. iii. 198. ^ Las Cases: iv. 350. 



RELIGION DURING THE CONSULATE. 97 

the foot of altars, either holy and venerable, or ignoble and san- 
guinary." He felt that as religion was necessary to man, so a 
national religion was essential to a state. Disinclined to invent 
or create a religion, he preferred to revive one that had long ex- 
isted, and that a passing agitation had swept away in its tumultu- 
ous and destructive course. 

France had been ten years without a national system of reh- 
gion, and without established forms of worship. The churches 
had been at first transformed into profane Temples of Reason or 
of Mars. They had since been the resort of the Theophilanthro- 
pists, a sect which advocated a cold and material practice of virtue. 
The age was eminently skeptical ; the men whose talents made 
them prominent, and whose acquirements gave them influence, 
were either carelessly indifferent or actively anti-religious. To 
revive Catholicism in France, therefore, to restore the spiritual 
authority of the pope, was a deUcate and arduous task, and yet 
the advantages which would accrue to Bonaparte's government 
from a successful endeavor to reconstitute the church, were so 
considerable that the First Consul resolved to enter into negotia- 
tions with his Holiness. A correspondence was at once opened 
with Po]De Pius VII. 

The objects Bonapai'te had in view were principally political. 
It is unnecessary to suppose him actuated by any of the some- 
what sentimental motives that his more ardent biographers as- 
cribe to him. It is trivial to consider him as influenced by 
"reminiscences of his primary education," by "memories of the 
pomp of Catholicism in his infancy," or " by impressions derived 
from his enthusiastic and melancholy temperament." ^ It is enough 
to believe that he understood and appreciated the force of a faith 
and a creed in giving a nation unity and homogeneity : that he 
calculated upon the dominion to be acquired by reestablishing 
and controlUng the hierarchy of the church ; and that the ponti- 
fical organization and the discipline of the clergy which he had in 

1 St. Hilaii-e : Nap. au Cnnseil d'Etat, 1. 100. 

13 



98 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

view, by making him the head of the ecclesiastical police, would 
give him new authority and a fresh prestige. During the pro- 
gress of the negotiations with Rome, he said to Bourrienne, his 
secretary, "In every country, religion may be of aid to the go- 
vernment. It is well to use it as a means of exerting influence 
upon men. I was a Mahometan in Egypt, I am a Catholic in 
France. It is essential that as far as its police is concerned, the 
religion of a state be in the hands of him who governs the state." 

The Pope at once sent to Paris three plenipotentiaries : Spina, 
the prelate, Cardinal Gousalvi and Father Caselh. Bonaparte 
appointed as his representatives, the Abb6 Bernier, Cretet, a 
Councillor of State, and his brother Joseph. These bent to the 
task with zeal and energy, and Napoleon, stubbornly resisting 
the opposition and the hesitations of his counsellors, drew up, 
himself, the bases of the instrument which he afterwards re- 
garded as forming one of the most politic and astute acts of his 
reign. 

In the face of difficulties of every kind, and opposition both 
open and disguised, the treaty was promulgated on Easter Sun- 
day, the 18th of April, 1802. Its principal featiu^es were : the 
recognition by the French government that the Catholic, Apos- 
tolic and Roman rehgion was the religion of a majority of the 
nation, and should be freely exercised, subject only to necessary 
police regulations ; the division of the territory of France into 
ten archbishoprics and fifty bishoprics ; the declaration that all 
the episcopal and archiepiscopal dioceses existing before the Revo- 
lution were suppressed and extinguished ; the assumption by the 
First Consul of the right to appoint the bishops and archbishops, 
the Pope to confer ujion them the canonical installation ; and the 
agreement by the government, that the state should secure a 
proper salary to the officers of the church. 

The ceremony of the proclamation took place at Notre Dame, 
and was the first public religious act of the government since the 
F^te of the Federation, in 1789. A Te Deum of thanksgiving for 



TE DEUM AT NOTRE DAME. " 99 

the i:estoratiou of worship, and a mass in music, reconciUng the 
RepuMic with the Church, were the prominent features of the 
occasion. Incense smoked upon the altars, and flowers were 
hung in profusion from the arches. The three Consuls were pre- 
sent, Bonaparte causing his servants to appear for the first time 
in the colors which afterwards became imperial — green and gold. 
The clergy sang in chorus, to an accompaniment of one hundred 
and one guns, the form of prayer fixed in the Concordat for the 
government and its officers : Domine, salvam fac rempublicam ; 
domine, salvos fac consules. " The imposing pomp of this cere- 
mony," says the biographer of the pope, "the joy of Christians 
at seeing the regeneration of the religion of Jesus Christ ; the 
presence of the three Consuls and of all the authorities ; the ac- 
clamations of the delighted public, and even the splendor of the 
procession and the military accessories — everything, in short, 
gave to this religious solemnity an interest and brilliancy which 
rejoiced all hearts and encouraged the most inspiring hopes." ^ 

From sixty to eighty ladies were invited to accompany Ma- 
dame Bonaparte to ISTotre Dame. " The spectacle," says Madame 
Junot, "was an enchanting one, seeming a magnificent conserva- 
tory filled with the choicest flowers. More than two-thirds of 
the ladies by whom Josephine was surrounded, were not twenty 
years of age : many were under sixteen, and the majority were 
pretty. Madame Murat's fair, fresh and spring-like face, compa- 
rable only to a May rose, was crowned by a pink satin hat and 
feathers. She wore a dress of fine India tambour muslin, lined 
with pink satin and trimmed with Brussels lace ; over her shoul- 
ders was thrown a scarf of the same fabric. I have seen her 
more richly dressed, but never more beautiful. How many young 
women, hitherto unknown, on this day took their degree in the 
realm of beauty, beneath the brilliant beams of a mid-day sun, 
rendered more glowing in their passage before the stained win- 
dows of the basilic!"^ 

1 Vie de Pie VTI. .39. ^ d'Abr. i. 6(il. 



100 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

To augment the effect of this ceremony, Napoleon had ordered 
the re-pubhcation m the Monitem' of the mormng, of a review 
originally inserted in the Mercure, by Fontanes, of Chateaubri- 
and's " Genie du Christianisme :" a work then exciting the ut- 
most interest, and describing with rare eloquence the beauties of 
Christianity and the moral and poetic aspect of the practices of 
religion. 

The body of the cathedral, however, did not present the spec- 
tacle of an attentive and respectful auditory. The public did not 
seem to be prepared for so abrupt a transition from the habits of 
the past twelve years. The attitudes and gestures of a large por- 
tion of the witnesses of the scene, indicated disaffection rather than 
assent. Murmurs, whisperings, and even audible conversations 
frequently interrupted and arrested the service. G-eneral Auge- 
reau had refused to attend the ceremony, till authoritatively bid- 
den by Bonaparte to accomj^any him, and then talked so loud as 
to disturb the ofldciators at the altar. Rapp declined being pre- 
sent, and announced flatly that he should always abstain from 
attending mass. Delmas, in quitting the cathedral, irritated the 
First Consul by remarking that he thought the ceremony a ' ' very 
queer sort of harlequinade." The soldiers in the barracks secretly 
circulated a caricature representing Bonaparte drowning in an 
immense font of holy water, and a crowd of bishops pushing him 
to the bottom with their crosiers. Moreau refused to attend the 
Te Deum, or the banquet given in its honor at the Tuileries. He 
turned the ceremony into ridicule, some time afterwards, in pre- 
sence of the Minister of War. Madame de Stael shut herself up 
at home in order not to witness the odious procession. She had 
used all her influence against the revival of religion, and suc- 
ceeded in uniting against it the aristocrats and the republicans. 
" There is not a moment to lose," she said, "to-morrow the tyrant 
will have 40,000 priests at his service and in his pay." ' 

"How it happened, I cannot tell," says Bourrienne, speaking 



THE FUNERAL OF A DANSEUSE. 101 

of the Te Deum, "but by some fatality, many of the audience 
were attacked with violent hunger : people were continually ob- 
served to turn aside their heads in order to bite through cakes 
of chocolate : and I affirm that I saw others eating bread without 
the slightest embarrassment and without heeding the ceremony 
in the least. Tlie consular court was in general irreligious, and in- 
deed it could hardly be otherwise, composed as it was of those 
who had most contributed to the destruction of public worship in 
France, and of men who, having passed their lives in the camp, 
had been oftener to church in Italy to remove pictures than to 
hear mass. Those who, without being imbued with religious 
ideas, had received that education and were endowed with that 
sense which leads one to respect in others the faith he does not 
share, did not blame Napoleon, and behaved with decency and 
reverence."^ 

A shower of epigrams attended the promulgation of the Con- 
cordat. The following quatrain went from one end of Prance to 
the other : 

'• Politique plus grand que General habile, 
Bien plus ambitieux que Louis dit le Grand, 
Pour etre roi d'Egypte, il croit a 1' Alcoran, 
Pour etre roi de France, il croit a FEvangile." 

The new order of things was from time to time disturbed by 
conflicts between the civil and ecclesiastical authorities. A most 
serious breach of good faith, on the part of the curate of a Paris 
church, led to the institution of rigorous measures by Bonaparte<for 
the suppression of intolerance and fanaticism. M'Ue Chameroy, a 
danseuse at the Opera, and openly leading a scandalous life, died, 
and her remains were followed to the cemetery by nearly all the 
actors and actresses in the city. The hearse stopped at St. Roch 
for the usual prayers over the dead. The curate refused to admit 
the corpse, and declined administering the customary rites of 



102 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

religion. The people clamored in the street against so gross an 
outrage, and were upon the point of forcing the doors, when Da- 
zincourt, a well known comedian, prevailed upon them to remove 
the body to a neighboring church. Here the funeral service was 
performed without composition. Bonaj)arte was exceedingly an- 
noyed at this example of bigotrj^, for intolerance he meant should 
be expunged from the ecclesiastical creed. The next evening he 
dictated to Lagarde, the secretary to the Council of State, the fol- 
lowing reprimand, which was at once sent to the Archbishop of 
Paris for his signature. It appeared in the Moniteur the next 
morning : 

"The curate of St. Roch, in a temporary absence of reason, 
has refused to pray for M'Ue Chameroy, and to admit her remains 
within his church. One of his colleagues, a sensible man, and 
one versed in the true moraUty of the Gospel, received the body 
into his sanctuary of the Filles St. Thomas, where the service was 
performed with the usual solemnities. The Archbishop has or- 
dered the curate of St. Roch three months' suspension, to remind 
him that Jesus Christ instructs us to pray even for our enemies : 
and in order that, recalled to a sense of duty by meditation, he 
may learn that all the superstitious practices preserved in certain 
rituals, but which, begotten in times of ignorance, or created by 
the overheated imagination of zealots, degrade religion by their 
folly, were proscribed by the Concordat and by the law of the 
28th of AprU." 

l^ot long afterwards, one of the dramatic censors, in a report 
to Chaptal, Minister of the Interior, proposed to prohibit, in fu- 
ture, the performance at the Comedie Fran9aise, of Moliere's 
" Tartufe," on the ground that it exposed the hypocrisies of reli- 
gion, and "might therefore offend the clergy," and because the 
principal object of the Concordat was " to do away with every pre- 
text for discord between the civil and spiritual authorities." This 
gentleman was rewarded for his suggestion by an order given by 
Bonaparte to Chaptal to remove hiai from ofl&ce, and the counsel 



DIFFICULTIES WITH THE CLERGY. 103 

to make him inspector at the markets. " He is too stupid to hold 
the place he does. Give him a substitute at once, Chaptal." 

Discussions between the church and the government were 
now of constant occurrence. The priests refused burial to per- 
sons supposed to have perished by suicide or in duels, and in- 
voked the authority of ancient civil laws as well as of canonical 
rules. Legislation upon this point was declared by the govern- 
ment to be extinct, and the officers of religion were advised " to 
accord burial in every case of the kind, as dictated by the spirit 
of evangelical charity." 

The prefects complained that parents took their children to 
be baptized before registesring their birth upon the public records, 
and desired that registry before baptism might be made compul- 
sory. Portalis, the Director of Public Worship, refused, recom- 
mending the contrary rule, on the ground that "baptism was 
necessary for salvation," and that it consequently could not be too 
promptly performed. Many priests refused to accept as godfa- 
thers and godmothers, individuals whom they pronounced out of 
the pale of the church, such as actors, and divorced husbands and 
wives. Portalis counselled them to avoid such invidious distinc- 
tions, as likely to create disturbance and to foment passion. The 
"clergy unanimously refused to christen children by names not in- 
cluded in the Gregorian calendar : the First Consul declared them 
to be right. They refused the sacrament to such as could not 
show " certificates of confession," and would not bless the second 
marriage of parties who had been divorced. The government 
was thus in constant trouble, and was not always fortunate or 
dexterous in reconciling differences or compelling obedience. 

It now appeared that the new ecclesiastical division of France 
reduced Rheims and Sens from archbishoprics to simple parishes. 
The motive was not difficult to discover. The cathedral of Rheims 
had been the scene of the consecration of the kings of France 
from the time of Hugh Capet : the vaults of Sens contained the 
remains of the father of the last two monarchs of the line. The 



104 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

First Consul was not above the spite of seeking to degrade these 
spots hallowed in legitimacy, by lowering their ecclesiastical rank. 
The model of a monument exhibited at St. Denis soon distinctly 
showed the position it was meant the church should hold towards 
the government. It represented Religion prostrated at the feet 
of Bonaparte, humbly waiting his pleasure to raise her up. The 
police were instructed secretly to issue pamphlets against the 
priesthood, least they should acquire an undue influence over 
the jpeojale. The police engaged men to applaud the irreligious 
sentiments contained in the vaudeville of the " Visitandines ;" and 
they required the frequent performance of Voltaire's " OEdipe," 
on account of the famous lines in derision of the clergy •} 

" Les pretres ne sont pas ce qu'un vain peuple pense : 
Notre credulite fait toute leur scienoe.'' 

Upon the re establishment of public worship, Bonaparte was 
strongly urged to set the example himself of religious observ- 
ance, by attending mass. He refused for a long time, saying, "I 
have done enough : you will obtain nothing more from me ; you 
can never make me a hypocrite." He yielded at length, however, 
and heard divine service, for the first time, at St. Cloud. The 
ceremony was performed in advance of the hour appointed and 
announced, that those to whom the measure was unpalatable 
might arrive too late to witness it. 

In the newspapers published on Monday, during this period, 
the following item was usually to be found : ' ' The First Consul 
heard mass yesterday in his private apartments." This assertion 
was founded on the following bit of by-play : adjoining Bona- 
parte's study, and communicating with it, was a bathing-room, 
formerly the oratory of Anne of Austria. On Sundays, a porta- 
ble altar and an encircling platform restored this chamber to its 
primitive destination. The door was opened into the study, and 
mass was then performed. Bonaparte rarely suspended his writing 

I Salgues' Memoirs, iv. 248. 



THE SAINTS AND THE CALENDAR. 105 

or his dictation during the ceremony, which lasted usually twelve 
minutes.^ 

Eeligion, in its outward observances, was an official institu- 
tion : it did not hold, at the outset, nor did it obtain, during the 
Empire, any controlling influence upon the heart or soul of soci- 
ety. The attendance of the civil functionaries at the services of 
the church was general and punctilious : but it was in obedience 
to circulars from the Minister of Public Worship. The case of a 
prefect may be cited, whose attention to his prayer-book, during 
his long administration, obtained for him a wide-spread reputa- 
tion for piety : he confessed, after Waterloo, that his supposed 
prayer-book was a volume of Lafontaine's Fables.^ 

Among the benefits conferred upon society by the Concordat, 
was the restitution to the calendar of the names of numerous 
saints whom the Terror had excluded from it. During that 
period of confusion, children had been baptized Tiger, Hemlock, 
Rabbit, or Wolf, instead of Chrysostom or Francis. Onion and 
Carrot, Robespierre and Marat, names either ridiculous or infa- 
mous, had superseded those of Vincent, Joseph and Matthew. 
Baron Alph^e de Yatry, a gentleman of elegant accomplishments, 
had borne, during the first years of his infancy, the name of 
" trognon de chou," or Stump of Cabbage.^ The First Consul 
abolished this impious innovation, and when, even after the 
promulgation of the Concordat, Baron Pommereul pubUshed an 
almanac in which he had replaced each saint by a philosopher 
— substituting Socrates for Luke, Epicurus for Clement and Zeno 
for JSTicholas — Bonaparte forbade its circulation and ordered its 
suppression.* 

1 Bour., iv. 282. 3 M6m. de Madame de Genlis, 118. 

1 M6m. d'lm Bourgeois, i. 56. 4 Salgues' Memoirs, iv. 274. 



14 



CHAPTER X. 

A Courtship and Marriage under Bonaparte — General Junot and M'lle de Permon— Tlie Offer — 
Consultation with Bonaparte — A singular Obstacle — The Trousseau and Corbeille — The Bride's 
Toilet — The Ceremony — Bonaparte wagers with Josephine upon the sex of the First-Born — 
The Baptism of M'lle Junot. 

f^ EN"BRAL JUNOT, one of Bonaparte's favorite officers, was, 
vJ in 1800, at the age of twenty-nine, appointed Commander 
of Paris, with, extraordinary prerogatives. The First Consul en- 
joined it upon him to marry, as a home and an establishment 
were indispensable to him in the situation he was to occupy. 
"Besides," said Bonaparte, "I require it of you for your own 
interest." This allusion referred to Junot's African connections, 
an Abyssinian slave, named Araxarane, having presented him, 
while in Egypt, with a boy whom the army, with true military 
humor, baptised Othello. Junot, therefore, left Meo's inn, where 
he lodged, took a hotel in the Rue de Verneuil, stocked it with 
the best of Burgundy wines, and requested his family to seek him 
a wife : especially a rich one, in accordance with the recommend- 
ation of Bonaparte. To this suggestion Junot had replied, "Wil- 
lingly, if she please my taste ; but that is not very likely, as 
almost all heiresses are superlatively ugly." 

The duties of the command of Paris left the General sufficient 
leisure, it appears, personally to prosecute his researches through 
the salons of the capital. As it was known that he was a marry- 
ing man, and that the instructions of the First Consul required as 



GENERAL JUNOT'S COURTSHIP. 107 

prompt a compliance as possible, the match-makers and gossips 
seconded him with praiseworthy zeal. He was advised in numer- 
ous quarters to visit Madame de Permon, a lady of the old 
regime, a former acquaintance of Bonaparte's, but estranged from 
him of late years in consequence of her rejection of him in mar- 
riage. Her daughter Laura, whom the First Consul had often 
familiarly called M'Ue Loulou, was sixteen years old, and was 
violently opposed to an alliance with a "charming bachelor" of 
fifty, with whom Madame de Permon was anxious to unite her. 
Junot at first declined seeking her acquaintance, on the plea that 
" M'Ue Loulou must be a little personage of great pretensions, a 
spoiled child, and thoroughly insupportable." 

However, he finally overcame these unreasonable objections, 
and visited Madame de Permon one evening in September. A 
dozen guests, principally returned emigrants, were chatting and 
playing charades. It was a most awkward moment for a visit from 
a General of the Repubhc. The legitimist circle immediately be- 
came silent, and the stranger was received by all but the mistress 
of the house with coldness and distrust. She, however, exerted 
her tact, and soon established friendly relations between the dis- 
affected parties. The General talked of Egypt, of his battles with 
the Mamelukes, and of his encounter with Ayoub-Bey. This, we 
must suppose, was intended for the ear of M'Ue Loulou, with 
whom French etiquette would hardly have permitted a more di- 
rect and personal interview. Junot was in this less fortunate 
than Othello of Venice, who seems to have had unbounded op- 
portunities for communicating martial information, directly, to the 
gentle Desdemona. It does not appear that Junot interested the 
daughter on this occasion, but he succeeded in inducing the 
mother to be present the next day at the translation of the re- 
mains of Turenne — a ceremony at which he was to preside, as 
Commandant of the Army of Paris. As the cortege passed the 
window at which Madame de Permon was sitting, he bowed to 
her in so marked a manner, that the crowd immediately noticed 



108 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON". 

it ; and one man, forgetting chronology in his anxiety to furnish 
an explanation, exclaimed : " She must be Turenne's widow !" 

For ten days Junot regularly repeated his evening visit, con- 
fining his attentions exclusively to the mother, and never once 
speaking to the daughter. One day at noon, when Miss Laura 
was taking her drawing lesson, while Madame de Permon was 
still in bed, and while her son Albert was paying her his morning 
respects, a carriage was announced, and a servant brought Gen- 
eral Junot's request that he might be admitted. Permission was 
granted, and the General, entering and closing the door, seated 
himself by the bed-side, and took Madame de Permon's hand. 
He had come, he said, to ask a favor, and an important one ; "I 
have come to beg the hand of your daughter — will you grant it 
me ? I give you my word for it, and it is that of a man of honor, 
that I will make her happy. I can offer her an establishment 
worthy of her and of her family. Come, Madame de Permon, 
answer me with the frankness with which I prefer my request, 
Yes or No ?" 

The mother and brother gave their consent with joy. " But 
now," said Junot, " I have another favor to ask ; one upon which 
I set a high value, as it is most interesting to me. I desii'e, ex- 
traordinary as it may seem to you, to be myself allowed to pre- 
sent my petition to your daughter." Against such an impropriety 
— so violent an innovation — ^Madame de Permon exclaimed and 
protested, but upon the General's adding that it was in her pre- 
sence he desired to speak to the young lady, both mother and son 
relented and consented. M'Ue Laura was sent for : she excused 
herself to M. Viglians, the drawing-master, and descended to the 
bedroom with the utmost composure, as she supposed General 
Junot was gone. But she found him seated by her mother's bed- 
side, holding one of her hands in his. He rose and addressed her 
as follows : 

"Mademoiselle, I am happy enoiigh to have obtained the con- 
sent of your mother and brother to my solicitation for your hand : 



A SOLDIER'S COURTSHIP. 109 

but I have to assure you that this consent, otherwise so valuable 
to me, will become null, unless you can at this moment, here, in 
their presence, declare that you willingly acquiesce in it. The 
step I am at this moment taking, is not perhaps altogether con- 
sistent with established forms: — I am aware it is not : but you 
will pardon me if you reflect that I am a soldier, frank even to 
roughness, and desirous of ascertaining that in the most important 
act of my life, I am not deceiving myself. Will you then conde- 
scend to tell me whether you will become my wife ? and above 
all, whether you can do so without any repugnance ?" 

This stately discourse, addressed to a girl of sixteen totally 
unprepared for it, by a gentleman who had never once spoken to 
her before, produced the effect which might naturally have been 
expected. The young lady felt "as if it were all a dream :" she 
" remained for ten minutes with her eyes fixed on the ground :" 
" the palpitation of her heart threatened to burst her corset :" the 
blood mounted to her head with such violence that " she heard 
nothing but a sharp singing, and saw nothing but a moving rain- 
bow." She finally escaped, ran up stairs and concealed herself in 
the attic. Her brother, with a knowledge of the female heart re- 
markable in one so young, declared to Junot that his sister would 
be proud to bear his name, and succeeded in partially allaying 
the agitation of the General. The consent of the First Consul 
was now to be obtained, and Junot hastened to the Tuileries. 
Duroc obtained for him an immediate audience, and Junot was at 
once introduced into the cabinet of Bonaparte. The conversation 
that ensued is given by Madame Junot in her Memoirs, and is 
guaranteed by her as exact in every particular, her established 
rule being — on no occasion to be departed from — never to record 
expressions of Napoleon upon uncertain recollection. 

" Greneral," said Junot, commencing with that abruptness 
which bespeaks an earnest purpose, ' ' you have testified a desire 
to see me married : the affair is arranged ; I am about to marry." 
" Really ! And have you run away with your wife ; you appear 



110 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

somewhat agitated?" "No, General." "Whom are you going 
to marry, then?" "A person whom you have known from her 
childhood, whom you used to love. General, of whom all speak 
advantageously, and with whom I am desperately in love — M'lle 
de Permon." 

At this moment Bonaparte, instead of walking as he con- 
versed, as was his usual custom, was seated at his desk, which he 
was notching with his penknife. He started up, threw away the 
knife, and seized Junot by the arm, saying, imperioixsly, " Whom 
did you say you meant to marry ?" " The daughter of Madame 
de Permon — the child whom you have so often held upon your 
knee when you were youi'self a young man, General." " It can- 
not be : Loulou is not marriageable: how old is she?" "She 
will be sixteen next month." " This is a very bad match you are 
making : there is no fortune in the family : and besides, how can 
you reconcile yourself to becoming the son-in-law of Madame de 
Permon ? You must take care : the lady has a temper of her 
own." " Permit me to observe," interrupted Junot, "that I do 
not propose to marry my mother-in-law." He then enlarged 
upon the vh-tues of the young lady, and referred Bonaparte for 
further favorable details to Josephine and his sister Carohne. 
The First Consul at last resumed : " She is totally without for- 
tune, I dare say : what portion has this young person ?" "I have 
not asked." " You were right in saying just now that you were 
desperately in love. What rashness ! Did I not expressly recom- 
mend you to seek a rich wife ? For you are not rich yourself." 
" I beg your pardon. General : I am very rich. Are you not my 
protector, my father ? And when I inform you that I love a girl 
who is poor, but without whom I should be unhappy, I know that 
you will come to my assistance, and portion my betrothed." 

Bonaparte smiled, urged other objections, listened, yielded 
and assented. " Yery well : you will not marry your mother-in- 
law, you say ; and if the young lady be really such as you describe 
her, I see no reason for being severe on the article of fortune. I 



THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT. Ill 

give you one hundred thousand francs for your bride's portion, 
and forty thousand for her trousseau. Adieu, my friend, I wish 
you well !" So saying, he resumed his seat and his penknife, 
adding, laughingly, ' ' But you will have a terrible mother-in- 
law !" 

The preparations for the marriage were now urged on by 
Junot, who commissioned Madame Murat to superintend the pre- 
paration of the wedding gifts, and Madame Bernard, the florist 
of the Opera, to furnish the bride elect with a daily bouquet of 
the rarest flowers. The contract was signed late in October, 
the lady's brother endowing her with sixty thousand francs, and 
M. Lequien de Bois-Cressy, the intended second husband of 
Madame de Permon, setthng upon her fifty thousand more. Bona- 
parte appended his signature to the instrument the next day, and 
was so pleased with the brother's generosity, that he made him 
Commissary-General of Police. 

The day preceding the marriage. General Junot, accidentally 
discovering that the family of the bride would not consider the 
ceremony complete, when performed by one of the maj^ors of 
Paris, startled Madame de Permon from her propriety by asking 
her if her daughter expected to be married at church. "To be 
married at church!" she exclaimed, "why, where else would you 
have her married? Before your friend with the scarf?" meaning 
M. Duquesnoy, mayor of the Seventh Ward. ' ' Tou must have 
lost your wits, my child. How can you suppose that we could 
consent to a purely republican marriage ?" 

Junot plead that marriage was a civil ceremony, and that the 
benediction of the priest was a useless formality ; that the Com- 
mandant of Paris could not consistently appear in uniform, to 
show himself to the crowd of beggars and low people that would 
be sure to fill the church. M'Ue Loulou was firm, urged the re- 
quirements of Christianity, declared that the union could not take 
place unless the church should bless it, and finally sought relief 
in tears. Junot stamped his foot, and it would seem that he 



112 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

even swore, for the biographer says that he "let shp a very un- 
usual expression." 

It appears that Junot's conduct in this juncture was partly 
dictated by Bonaparte. The First Consul was already accused of 
seeking to overturn the Republic, and one of the great conquests 
of the Revolution had been the secularization of legislation, and 
the separation of church and state in the matter of marriage. 
He feared lest the solemnization of the nuptials of a general oflfi- 
cer so well known as Junot, at a church and in public, might 
excite surprise and distrust — for he had not yet negotiated the 
Concordat with the Pope. The difficulty was finally compromised 
by arranging a nocturnal wedding to be discreetly muffled under 
a midnight mass. To this the young lady consented. " So," said 
the mother, "this grand aff"air is settled. Come, fall upon your 
knees, sir, and beg pardon of your betrothed. Loulou, give him 
your hand, or rather your cheek, in recompense of this graceful 
act of submission." 

The trousseau and corbeille were now announced as ready for 
inspection, in adjoining rooms : the trousseau, furnished by the 
family of the bride herself, and containing the more necessary 
articles of a wife's wardrobe, and the corbeille, the gift of the 
bridegroom, containing the ornamental and decorative portion. 
Junot was requested to withdraw during the examination of the 
first, permission being accorded him to return during the in- 
spection of the latter. The bride of sixteen then proceeded to 
survey her accumulated treasures. The floor was strewed with 
packages dehcately wrapped in tissue paper and tied with pink 
ribbons. These had been given forth from the bosom of a rose- 
colored sarcophagus. M'lle Loulou spent, she says, a magic hour 
in the midst of these nuptial magnificences ; highly trimmed 
chemises with embroidered sleeves ; handkerchiefs with embossed 
borders, petticoats with hems in alto relievo, dressing-gowns of 
India muslin, night-caps edged with Mechlin lace, and coUerettes 
skirted with English point. Bonaparte's appropriation of forty 



THE BRIDAL GIFTS. 113 

thousand francs had been employed to good purpose. Madame 
de Permon was the Lady Bountiful of this happy scene, the fairy 
Benevola of this hour of enchantment. 

The ladies now passed to what must have been, to the younger 
of the two, the most agreeable of the duties of the day — the ex- 
amination of the bridegroom's wedding present. It was a new 
sensation, and to be enjoyed but once. The corbeille had been 
designed by Junot, improved by Caroline Bonaparte, and exe- 
cuted by M'Ue I'Ohve, the dress-maker of Josephine. It con- 
tained Cashmere shawls, India muslin by the piece, Turkish velvet 
by the roll, veils of Enghsh lace, and sheets of white blond ; reels 
of Brussels point long enough to throw the log of an ocean 
steamer ; gloves, essences, flowers, trimmings, fans ; a dressing- 
case containing all the necessaries of the toilet in enamel ; a work- 
box comprising all the delicate engines of feminine industry in 
gold set with pearls ; an opera-glass of mother of pearl, effulgent 
with diamonds ; six ears of golden corn ; a diamond-set comb ; a 
medallion portrait of Junot, by Isabey, intended to be worn upon 
the breast, but more fit, from its size, thought Mile Loulou, to be 
suspended upon the wall of a gallery ; Egyptian topazes, oriental 
corals and antique cameos ; a bridal purse of entwined golden links, 
swollen with bank notes, and jingling with Yenetian sequins. 

Junot had proved himself an attentive and zealous lover : he 
had now to show himself an adroit son-in-law. Madame de Per- 
mon had for years pined for a red Cashmere shawl, an indulgence 
which she considered beyond her means. Forming part of the 
corbeille was a basket embroidered with her cipher. Within was 
a purse like that of her daughter, containing a pure topaz instead 
of sequins ; two fans and several dozens of gloves : and enshrined 
in an envelope of white gros-de-lSTaples, lay a magnificent scarlet 
Cashmere ! This delicate and graceful compliment came with 
peculiar effect from the soldier whose valor had made him the 
hero of Lonato, the pulsation of whose brain had been felt in the 
depths of a sabre wound upon his skull, and from whose unclosed 

15 



114 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

scar, eight years after, blood flowed upon the fingers of Napoleon 
as he was playfully pulling his favorite's hair. 

At day-break on the 30th of October, M'Ue Loulou proceeded 
to the church of her confessor, where she received absolution and 
the blessing of a venerable abbe. At nine she commenced her 
toilet, and at eleven appeared in a costume which no one can de- 
scribe better than herself. " I wore an India muslin gown, with 
a short waist, a train, and long sleeves that buttoned at the wrist, 
the whole being trimmed with magnificent point lace. My cap 
was of Brussels point, crowned with a wreath of orange flowers, 
from which descended to my feet a veil of fine English point, 
lai'ge enough to envelop my person. My costume was a profu- 
sion of rich lace so delicate and filmy that it resembled a vapory 
net-work, shading my countenance and playing with the curls of 
my hair : the undulating folds of my robe fell around me with 
the inimitable grace and supple ease of the superb tissues of In- 
dia ; the long veil covered my form without concealing it."^ In 
this guise M'lle de Permon proceeded to the mayoralty and was 
civilly married by its presiding officer. The market-women, 
then, as now, a corporation, and a somewhat intrusive and pre- 
sumptuous one, insisted on paying their respects to the bride, and 
deputed four of their number to present her with flowers, and 
two to kiss her on either cheek. Junot, who could well afford 
to condescend on the happiest day of his life, replied to them in 
their own elegant dialect, the argot of the French Billingsgate. 
At midnight, the disguised benediction of the church was be- 
stowed upon the impatient couple, and " at one, they entered the 
Hotel de Montesquieu to the sound of the most harmonious 
music." 

Such was the courtship, such the wedding of one of Bonaparte's 
lieutenants with a child whom the First Consul had held upon his 
knee. Some time before the birth of Madame Junot's first child, 

1 Tlie portrait of Madame Junot, upon the opposite page, is from a slsetch in possession of the family, 
liindly placed at the disposal of the designer. 




■"T- '^h 



Dra\^mty"J.Cllanlpa&le . 



i^o"^ jimoi 



A CHRISTENING AT ST. CLOUD. 115 

Josephine predicted that it would be a girl. This opinion was 
derived from the position of certain cards in a game of patience. 
"Pooh, pooh," said Bonaparte, " Laurette will have a boy, I teU 
you." " What will you lay ?" asked Josephine. " I never bet," 
rephed the First Consul : " if you are sure of the fact, it is dishon- 
est : if not, it is simply foolish." " Well, bet sweetmeats, then : 
and I will wager the worsted work for a footstool." "Agreed," 
said Bonaparte : " and now take care," turning to Madame Junot, 
" that you do not make me lose." 

Some weeks after, General Junot informed Bonaparte of the 
birth of a daughter. The First Consul embraced him, and then 
said : " Give my love to your wife, and tell her that I have a two- 
fold quarrel with her : first, because she has not given the Repub- 
lic a soldier, and secondly, because she has made me lose my wa- 
ger with Josephine. But I shall not be any less her friend and 
yours." 

M'lle Josephine Junot and Master ISTapoleon Lannes, were 
Bonaparte's first god-children. They were christened at St. Cloud, 
soon after the promulgation of the Concordat. The First Consul 
wished to hold Miss Junot in his arms, but that young lady re- 
sisted violently, and absolutely refused to quit her mother. 
" Well, Miss Devil," said he, " stay where you are, then." While 
Cardinal Caprara was performing the ceremony, M'lle Josephine 
raised her arm, lifted his Eminence's red cap from his head, 
and placed it upon her own. " With your leave, my child," said 
Bonaparte, " give me your plaything ; it is but a bauble, like so 
many others, and we will restore it to the Cardinal." Before the 
godfather could interfere, the cap had been triumphantly placed 
upon his own head, and upon his removing it. Miss Josephine set 
up a shout so tremendous that she was heard from the chapel 
to the court-yard. "By heavens," said Bonaparte to Junot, 
' ' your daughter has as stout a voice as the most masculine boy 
in France."^ 

i d'Abr. i. 11, passim. 



116 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Greneral Junot was made Due d'Abrantes. in 1808, for his 
capture of a town of that name on the Tagus, but fell speedily 
afterwards from grace, and died of a brain fever at the age of 
forty-two years. His body lies at Montbar, but his heart is at 
the Pantheon. Madame Junot long survived him, and has left 
six volumes of Memoirs of Napoleon, his Court and Family. 
These are very precise and circumstantial, and with some allow- 
ances for the writer's too evident partiahty, form an authentic 
and in many respects interesting record of the period of which 
they treat. 



CHAPTER XL 

An Evening at Madame Kecamier's— The Company — The Programme — Talma as Othello — A 
GaTotte rehearsed — The Wild Boy of the Aveyron — A rustic Wedding — An amateur Per- 
formance by Madame de Stael — A Midnight Supper — A Sentiment by the Prussian Ambas- 



ORDBR had now been completely restored, and society had 
recovered its tone. Nothing can give a more lively idea 
of the occupations and amusements of the better classes at this 
period — the early Consulate — than the narrative of the employ- 
ment of a day and evening at the house of Madame R^camier, 
the most beautiful and accomplished woman of the age. Of the 
lady herself, we shall have occasion to speak more fully, under the 
Empire. The season was spring, and the scene her chateau of 
Clichy-la-Garenne, just beyond the walls of Paris. The invita- 
tions promised breakfast, a promenade, dinner, the reading of a 
new play, recitations from Shakspeare, amateur theatricals, cha- 
rades, proverbs and supper. 

The company began to assemble at eleven. Camille Jordan, 
the late republican exile, General Junot, and Bernadotte, then 
Commander of the Army of the West, were the first to arrive. 
Laharpe, the critic, who was to listen to M. de Longchamp's new 
play, "Le SIducteur Amoureux," and to give his opinion of it ; 
Talma, the tragedian ; the two Montmorencies, the representa- 
tives of one of the noblest houses in France, followed soon after. 
Five minutes before the hour fixed for breakfast, came Mr. Fox, 
Lord and Lady Holland, Mr. Erskine, Mr. Adair and General 



118 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Moreau, the hero of Hohenlinden. The company, thus composed 
of incongruous, or at least mharmonious elements, manifested at 
first some embarrassment. It was difficult to induce conversation 
between persons strangers to each other, or who had been lately 
separated by civil or international hostility, for conversation might 
often be an indiscretion and a betrayal. The hostess entered, and 
with a few natural words, produced among her guests sympathy, 
communion and accord. Addressing Mr. Fox, she said, "I am 
delighted to welcome to my house a gentleman who is as much 
esteemed in France as he is admired in England : wiU you allow 
me, and will Lord and Lady HoUand as well, to present to you my 
friends ?" She then named each guest severally, alluding to his 
rank and position with appropriate compliment, and the conver- 
sation at once became general and easy. 

Madame Recamier was conducted to the table by Fox : 
Moreau sat at her left. Laharpe and Erskine, Tahna and Berna- 
dotte, Jordan and Longchamp, conversed in paks till the ckcle 
gradually widened and embraced the whole company. The sub- 
jects were war, poHtics, literature, the fine arts : Fox upon Pitt, 
and Erskine upon the Juiy. The coffee had hardly been served, 
when the tramp of horses in the court announced a new arrival ; 
the tardy guest was Eugene de Beauharnais, who had come to 
take Fox to visit his mother at Mahnaison. He sat down at the 
devastated board, and, with the courteous aid of the hostess, 
snatched a hurried and unsubstantial repast. After a short prom- 
enade in the park, the company returned to the parlor, where 
Talma was to give recitations from the poets. No actor ever dis- 
pensed so completely with scenic accessories as this admirable 
tragedian. Madame Recamier, out of comphment to her Enghsh 
company, requested him to make selections from Shakspeare, 
through the French translation of Ducis. He commenced by a 
scene from Othello. Madame de Stael said of him that "he had 
only to pass his hand through his hair, and to cloud his brow, to 
become the Moor of Venice, in person. Terror seized you at two 



A DAY AT MADAME RfiCAMIER'S. 119 

steps from his side, as if all the illusions of the stage surrounded 
him." He then recited the interview of Macbeth with the witches, 
and though this was a briUiant era upon the English stage. Fox 
and Erskine expressed an enthusiastic admiration for the poet's 
French interpreter. Upon Talma's leaving the chateau to attend 
a rehearsal at the theatre, Madame R^camier sang a ballad, ac- 
companying herself upon the harp. Eugene de Beauharnais now 
renewed his invitation to Fox to visit Josephine at Malmaison, and 
speedily withdrew with him and Mr. Adair. 

Their places were soon supplied by new-comers — the Duchess 
of Gordon and her daughter Georgiana, afterwards the Duchess of 
Bedford. M. de Longchamp now read his comedy, and Laharpe, a 
severe and unsparing critic, declared that he could conscientiously 
comphment the author. An important but unbidden personage 
was then announced — ^Vestris, the ballet-master. He had heard 
that Lady Georgiana was at the chateau, and as she was to dance 
on the morrow evening a gavotte of his composition with Madame 
Eecamier, he thought that a rehearsal would not be inopportune. 
It was out of the question to think of denying him admittance, 
so the rehearsal was held to the music of the horn and the harp. 
Madame Recamier, being a married woman, and consequently 
supposed to possess the requisite assurance, assumed the resjDon- 
sibiUty of an Andalusian tambourine, while the blond and retiring 
English beauty veiled her blushes in the muslin folds of her baya- 
dere shawl. The audience were moved to enthusiasm, and the 
preceptor well-nigh shed tears at the proficiency of his pupils. 

The ladies next rode to the Bois de Boulogne, and, returning 
at five o'clock, found M. Recamier returned from his banking- 
house, and ready for dinner. This gentleman, whose age gave him 
the air rather of his wife's father than her husband, abandoned 
himself altogether to the calls of his business, leaving to her 
the entire duty of reception, entertainment and representation. 
Two new guests had arrived to dine, in the persons of Lalande 
the astronomer, and Degerando the economist. Another was 



120 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

expected at dessert ; this was the wild boy of the Aveyron — a being 
who had once been human, but who, by dwelhng with animals in 
the forest, was now, at the age of fifteen, a confirmed brute in his 
tastes and capacities. He was under the care of Dr. Tzard, to 
whom the government had entrusted him for education. 

He came with his instructor at seven. Madame Recamier 
caused him to be placed at her side, and sought by subjecting 
him to the influence of eyes accustomed to win, to subdue and to 
enchain, to woo him back to his once natural instincts. But on 
this occasion, doubtless the only one, they failed of their effect, 
for the young savage was exclusively occupied in satisfying the 
calls of hunger. When he had finished, he filled his pockets with 
sugar-plums, and then appeared to give ear to a warm discussion 
upon atheism between Lalande and Laharpe. In the midst of the 
debate, he sprang from his seat, rushed out upon the lawn, where 
he divested himself of all his clothing but his shu't ; this garment 
finally yielded to the rapidity and animation of Ms course, tear- 
ing in halves as he climbed a horse-chestnut and seated himself 
for repose in a fork of its branches. The ladies, who had followed 
him to the park, thought proper, upon observing this catastrophe, 
to remain at a distance, while Dr. Yzard, with a basket of fruit, 
attempted to decoy him to earth again. He 3delded to the seduc- 
tion : an incomplete but satisfactory garment was made for him 
from a petticoat of the porter's niece, and he was carried off to 
his home at the Garden of Plants. 

At seven o'clock the guests of the evening began to assemble ; 
Count Markoff, the Russian ambassador, and the gentlemen of 
his legation ; the Austrian ambassador ; M. de Berckeim, a friend 
of the Duke d'Bnghien, and who afterwards lost his reason on 
learning the execution of that unfortunate prince. The sounds 
of a pipe, violin and tambourine, on the borders of the river, drew 
the notice of the company in that direction, and Madame E,e- 
camier, saying that the music was that of a village wedding, pro- 
posed that they should attend it. " The newly married couple," 



AMATEUR THEATRICALS. 121 

says the chronicler, ' ' highly flattered by our visit, received us with 
evei'y mark of respect, and the singular contrast produced in the 
tableau by our arrival, can easily be imagined. Such is the sove- 
reign power of beauty : grave dij^lomatists and unbending finan- 
ciers sought to vie in agility with the nimbler rustics, and the no- 
blemen of the North ventured for the first time to stray amid the 
mazes of a French quadrille, in presence of the most lovely and 
accomplished woman in the world : a general sentiment of gaiety 
augmented still further the interest of a scene worthy of the pen- 
cil of Teniers or Albano." 

On their return to the chateau the party found other guests 
awaiting their arrival : among them were Madame de Stael and the 
Marquis de Luchesini, the Prussian ambassador. Proverbs were 
at once proposed, but it was decided to begin the evening with 
amateur theatricals. The dramatic talent of the company was 
of a high order : Madame de Stael's improvisation was, by many, 
considered the best in Europe : Madame Viotte had been styled 
by Laharpe, "the Tenth Muse," and Count Oobentzel was the 
best amateur actor of the Hermitage Theatre, at the court of 
the Czarina Catherine. The first piece was ' ' Hagar in the Desert, " 
and as there is a lyric in Madame de Stael's works, of this name, 
it was doubtless the one represented on this occasion. Madame 
de Stael played Hagar : her son, afterwards killed at the age of 
twenty, in a duel at Stockholm, performed the part of Ishmael, 
and Madame R^camier that of the Angel. " It would be diffi- 
cult," continues the eyewitness already quoted, "to depict the 
effect produced by Madame de Stael in this eminently dramatic 
part, or to give any adequate idea of the pathetic manner in 
which she rendered the emotions of grief and of despair, suggested 
by Hagar's situation in the desert. Though performed in a par- 
lor, the dramatic illusion of the scene was perfect. With her long 
hair falling in the wildest disorder, Madame de Stael completely 
identified herself with the character. Madame Recamier, with 
her modest and celestial beauty, was the very personification of 

16 



122 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

the messenger of heaven. One would have supposed written for 
her these lines of the British poet : 

' woman ! lovely woman ! 
Angels are painted fair to look like you !' " 

Proverbs and charades in action followed this bibHcal tragedy. 
Count Cobentzel justified and sustained his dramatic reputation, 
to the great scandal of his colleagues, whose credit for gravity was 
somewhat endangered by the levity and versatility of his imper- 
sonations, and finally, at midnight, supper was announced. As 
the company sat down to table, the Prussian ambassador, though a 
married man, remarked that supper is always the most agreeable 
act of the comedy of the day. " Breakfast," he said, " is the meal 
of friendship : dinner that of etiquette : luncheon that of child- 
hood ; while supper is the banquet of love, and the scene of its 
hushed and whispered confidence." 



CHAPTER XII. 

Bonaparte projects the Legion of Honor — The first couTersation concerning it— The Argument 
and the Vote— Epigrams and counterfeit Decorations— The Artists, Scientific and Literary 
Men admitted— Lafayette— The Grand Eagle— Goethe— Toung Lafayette— Picard, Talma and 
Crescentini- Madame de Genlis— Hubert Goffin— Caricatures— The Effect of the Order upon 
Society. 

ONE evening in tlie month of February, 1802, Bonaparte still 
being First Consul, a select party dined at Malmaison. Upon 
tlie removal of the cloth, Josephine withdrew to the boudoir 
with the ladies of the company, while Bonaparte retired to the 
room somewhat ambitiously called the Council Chamber. He 
was followed by Monge the geometrician, Duroc, Didelot, Coun- 
cillor of State, Denon, lately appointed Director of the Louvre, 
and Arnault, the tragic author. Bonaparte arranged them in a 
circle, and placed himself in the centre, as was his custom when 
about to enter upon an argumeiit or to take a leading part in the 
conversation. "Citizen Monge," he said, "I did not see you on 
Sunday last at the grand reception of the ambassadors at the 
Tuileries. Since the palace has become the seat of government 
again, there has been no reception so brilliant. With what avidity 
the guests contemplated the dijjlomates and foreign ministers 
ornamented with the stars and ribbons of the various orders of 
their countries ! Denon, did you not notice this eagerness ?" 

" Certainly, I noticed it," replied Denon, " and I shared in it 
myself: it must be acknowledged that these wide ribbons of 
striking colors, these bright constellations, these enamelled crosses, 



124 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

produce a marvellous effect and contribute singularly to improve 
the personal appearance of the individual wearing them. In fact, 
they 'dress' a man." "That's an artist speaking," interrupted 
Monge ; " why, these crosses, these decorations, these cordons, are 
nothing but tinsel and gewgaws." "Gewgaws as much as you 
please," returned Bonaparte, " but people fancy them and yearn 
to possess them ; they are the ostensible signs of human grand- 
eur ; they strike the eye of the multitude and inspire involuntary 
respect. Let us attack the question fearlessly : men are fond of 
badges of distinction, the French more fond than other nations ; 
they really hunger and thirst for them ; such has been their spirit 
in every age. See what use Louis XIV. made of the cross of St. 
Louis : that powerful auxiliary stimulated soldiers to perform 
prodigies of valor. Money was worthless in comparison with it : 
it was pi-eferred to mountains of gold." "Well," said Monge, 
coldly, "you could not do better. Citizen Consul, than reestablish 
the cross of St. Louis." 

This was a direct and palpable thrust. Monge was a member 
of the Committee of the Convention, upon whose report that 
body suppressed the Order of St. Louis, in 1793, exactly one 
hundred years after its foundation. Bonaparte looked at Monge, 
remained silent for a few minutes, and then said : " Suppose we 
join the ladies in the parlor." 

In April of the same year, Bonaparte communicated his in- 
tention of instituting an order of chivalry to the members com- 
posing a sort of informal privy council. Cambac^rfes favored the 
project, saying that these distinctive marks had not been pro- 
scribed by the republics of antiquity. Regnault de St. Jean 
d'Angely furnished a very acceptable argument, in the assertion 
that the newly-formed government of the United States had just 
completed its republican institutions by creating the Order of 
Cincinnatus. Among the people — for the plans of Bonaparte 
naturally became pubUc — the opposition and disapproval was se- 
rious and prolonged. The First Consul persevered, however, and 



THE LEGION OF HONOR. 125 

the 4th of May, 1802, was appointed for the communication of 
the bill to the Council of State. 

The attendance on that occasion was large, and the interest 
manifested, unusually lively. Several of the auditors to the coun- 
cil were not twenty years old, and upon Bonaparte's entrance, 
they made such noisy haste to get into their seats, that he was 
obliged to call them to order. " G-entlemen, " he cried, tapping 
his desk with an ivory knife, "you behave like veritable school 
boys that you are." Upon the restoration of silence, the Second 
Consul, Cambacerfes, announced that the Bill for the Institution 
of the Legion of Honor was the order of the day, upon which the 
Councillor of State, Roederer, proceeded to read it. Bonaparte 
then said : " The present system of military recompense is a sys- 
tem without organization. The 87th article of the Constitution 
secures, indeed, national rewards to soldiers ; it is true also that a 
decree has ordered a distribution of honorary arms, which involves 
double pay, but the whole matter is a mass of confusion and irregu- 
larity. The spirit of the army needs to be sustained and directed. 
This bill gives consistency to the system of recompense, and 
forms a connected whole : it is a first step towards the organiza- 
tion of the nation." 

Murmurs and whisperings followed the close of the First Con- 
sul's remarks. "Silence, I say, gentlemen!" he exclaimed, again 
calling into requisition his ivory paper folder. " Citizen Mathieu 
Dumas has the floor." 

Mathieu Dumas, an upright, austere and methodic councillor, 
opposed the bill, inasmuch as he would prefer that the institution 
be exclusively confined to the army. Bonaparte's reply was 
remarkable, coming from a man whose sword was his fortune. 
After acknowledging the influence of might and force in a period 
of barbarism, he said: "But we must not reason from such 
periods to the present time. We are thirty millions of men 
bound together by inteUigence, property and commerce. Three 
or four hundred thousand soldiers are as nothing compared to 



126 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

sucli a mass. When a general quits the army, he returns to civil 
life. The soldiers themselves are the children of citizens. The 
army is the nation. The soldier knows no law hut force, while 
the citizen knows no other interest than the general good. The 
peculiarity of the soldier is to seek to obtain, despotically : that 
of the citizen to submit every question to discussion, to reason, 
to truth. So that I do not hesitate to think that the preeminence 
belongs incontestably to the citizen. If we were to divide the 
proposed rewards into military and civil, there would be two 
orders, while there is only one nation ; and if we were to award 
honors to soldiers only, the nation would be forgotten altogether." 
An explosion of bravos followed this brilliant improvisation, for 
the majority of the council were men of civic avocations. Bon- 
aparte, wishing to prolong the effect and rivet the impression, 
adroitly adjourned the meeting. 

Pour days afterwards the subject was revived. Berlier, a la- 
borious and grave councillor, spoke against the bill. He began 
by saying: "The proposed order leads to aristocracy: crosses 
and ribbons are the toys of monarchy." Bonaparte, in his reply, 
said: "It is nevertheless with such toys as these that men are 
led and governed. See how the people worship the decorations 
of the foreign envoys : the latter are themselves surprised at it, 
and never fail to wear their ribbons in public. I do not think that 
the French love either liberty or equality : they have not been 
changed by ten years of revolution. They are what the Gauls 
were, proud and frivolous. They have but one sentiment — honor. 
It is this sentiment that we must feed : the people must have 
badges of distinction. Voltaire called soldiers ' Alexanders at five 
sous a day :' he was right : they are nothing else. Do you think 
you can make men fight by analysis ? No : they must have glory, 
and the badges which show and perpetuate this glory. . . . The 
Revolution is over, and we are to reorganize the nation : every- 
thing is destroyed, and we are to re-create. There is a govern- 
ment, there are constituted authorities, but what is the rest ? 



THE VOTE UPON THE BILL. 127 

Grains of sand. We are scattered, without system, without union, 
without contact. . . . Do you imagine we can count upon the 
people? They cry indifferently ' Vive le Roi !' or ' Vive la Ligue !' 
We must give them a direction, and for that we must have instru- 
ments. In the war of the Vendee, I saw forty men control a 
whole department : it is their system of which we must possess 
ourselves." 

At the third sitting, Bonaparte skillfully turned the discussion 
to matters of detail, as if the substance and body of the project 
had already been adopted. Thibaudeau, whom the Convention 
had named the " Bar of Iron," from the sternness of his principles, 
spoke energetically against the project, denouncing it as diamet- 
rically opposed to the views professed during the Revolution ; 
and as the legislative body was to adjourn in three days, he 
thought it unwise to require of it so important a vote upon so 
insufficient examination. Bonaparte called upon the coimcil for 
its opinion : the ballot stood fifteen in favor of the bill to nine 
against it — the most serious opposition the First Consul had yet 
encountered. It was presented the next day. May 14, 1802, to 
the Legislature. The reporter, quoting an expression evidently 
furnished him by Bonaparte, said, "the idea is to create a new 
small change — ' ' monnaie " — whose standard is unalterable." The 
opposition was violent, though the bill was finally carried by 
a vote of one hundred and sixty-six to one hundred and ten. 
The Tribunat — a body which Bonaparte declared to be composed 
of "taquins," or teasers — returned a ballot of fifty-six for, to 
thirty-eight against. So that the three chambers whose concur- 
rence was necessary in the passage of the bill, and which con- 
sisted of three hundred and ninety-four members, gave to the 
Legion of Honor the very feeble majority of eighty. It thus 
became an institution, though it awakened a more imposing and 
tenacious hostility than any other of Napoleon's measures. 

Thibaudeau, the Bar of Iron, said to Bonaparte soon after, 
"You see that we were right in the Council of State, Citizen 



128 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Consul. An opposition so earnest is always a disadvantage." 
"Yes," returned Napoleon, "the prejudices are still too powerful. 
I should have waited : the matter was not urgent. Still, France 
has a right to expect great results from this institution, provided 
my successors do not botch it." 

The law was not to be put in execution for two years or more, 
owing to the necessity of procuring six million francs for the pre- 
liminary expenses. During this period a rain of epigrams and 
quolibets fell upon the new institiition, from the mouths of the 
republicans and the partisans of the Bourbons. Napoleon, never 
able to tolerate ridicule, revenged himself unsparingly by exile 
and disgrace : at the same time, he found comfort in predicting for 
the order the success with which the event has crowned it. " Pa- 
tience, patience," he said : "many who now make merry at the 
expense of the cross, will never be able to wear it : the Legion of 
Honor will yet become an object of ambition to all." M. de Lace- 
p^de, the naturalist, was made Grand Chancellor of the order. 
The Legion itself was divided into sixteen cohorts, each cohort 
containing seven grand ofl&cers, twenty commanders, thirty offi- 
cers, and three hundred and fifty chevaliers : the whole order, 
therefore, would comprise six thousand six hundred and twelve 
members. 

The students were the most active malcontents, as they have, 
indeed, ever been. At the moment of the first distribution of rib- 
bons, July 15, 1804, the fields were blushing with wild carnations, 
a flower which in color, size and form, closely resembles the cross 
of the Legion. Though penal to wear the decoration without au- 
thorization, there was no clause against wearing carnations, and 
the streets were very soon filled with bands of young men with 
the deceitful flower in their button-holes. As they passed the 
military posts, the sentinels presented arms : the promenaders, 
not so easily deluded, and unwilling to believe in the existence of 
merit at once so abundant and so juvenile, recognized and ap- 
plauded the quiz. Napoleon, in his wrath, sent for Fouch6, and 



THE ADMISSIONS INTO THE ORDER. 129 

ordered him to take the most rigorous measures against the 
offenders. Fouch6 showed his tact in his reply : " Certainly, your 
Majesty, these young fellows deserve chastisement : but let us 
wait till autumn." The emperor was pleased with the wit of this 
rejoinder, and was convinced by its spirit : the season of carna- 
tions was soon over, and with it disappeared the whole array of 
counterfeit decorations. 

Napoleon had the good taste and the generosity to admit into 
the order, the Councillors of State and Legislators who had op- 
posed its creation : Monge, Berlier, Thibaudeau and others : they 
accepted the cross without resistance. The list of scientific and 
literary men offers sufficient interest to be hastily passed in re- 
view : the names of the soldiers and government officers hardly 
present the same attraction. The following were the principal 
appointments in the Academy of Sciences, the First Class of the 
Institute : 

The four L's of Mathematics — Lagrange, Laplace, Legendre, 
Lalande -^ Bossut, professor of hydraulics ; Delambre, astronomer ; 
Prony, geometrician ; Fourcroy, chemist ; Haliy, mineralogist, cre- 
ator of the science of crystallography and professor at the Garden 
of Plants ; Parmentier, horticulturist, to whom was due the adop- 
tion of the American potato in France, and who had persuaded 
Louis XVI. to wear in his button-hole the first potato blossom 
produced on French soil ; Halle, physician to Josephine ; Geoffi-oy 
St. Hilaire, naturalist and professor of zoology ; Cuvier, one of 
the youngest of the Academy, and at this period, 1804, just com- 
mencing the studies which have made his name immortal ; and 
Cont^, inventor of the hydraulic machine at Marly and founder of 
the manufacture of crayons in France. 

The list of men of letters— the Second Class of the Institute 
—was drawn up by Lucien Bonaparte, Lacepfede and Fontanes, 
and was accepted by Napoleon with some modifications. The 
following were the principal admissions : Collin d'Harleville, dra- 

1 Mazas, Legion of Honoi*, 35. 

17 



130 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

matic poet ; Boufflers, a poetaster, both licentious and frivolous ; 
Chenier, one of the first poets of the revolutionary period, and for 
a long time violently opposed to the First Consul : Napoleon 
erased his name, but restored it at the instance of Cambaceres ; 
Andrieux, dramatist ; Fontanes, a critic and essayist till pro- 
scribed by the Directory, and upon his recall by Napoleon, chosen 
by him to pronounce the eulogy upon Washington in 1800, and 
afterwards the emperor's most servile flatterer ; Arnault, tragic 
author, whose drama of Oscar brought Ossian into high favor in 
France. We shall describe under the Literature of the Empire, 
how Lemercier, Duels and Delille refused the proffered decora- 
tion. 

Upon the list proposed by Fontanes was the name of Bernar- 
din de St. Pierre, one of the most truly popular and widely known 
writers in France. Napoleon drew his pen through his name, on 
account of the zeal with which he had defended Madame de Stael 
at the time of her exile : two years later, however, he gave him 
the decoration. Napoleon also erased the name of Parny, author 
of Poesies Brotiques, and of Goddam, a philippic in verse against 
England : that of Domergue, the grammarian, who was thought 
too pedantic to be really learned : that of Naigeon, a metaphj^si- 
cian and freethinker, and that of Cailhava, dramatist. 

Among the other distinguished academicians admitted were : 
Anquetil, an octogenarian, and the eldest of French historians ; 
Larcher, the translator of Herodotus ; Danse, antiquarian and 
professor of Greek literature, and Silvestre de Sacy, orientalist. 
These gentlemen belonged to the Third Class of the Institute^ — 
that of Ancient History and Literature. 

The Fourth Class, the Academy of Fine Arts, furnished the 
following members : the section of painting, its four G's — Gros, 
Gu6rin, Girodet, Gerard — besides David, Regnault, Visconti, Vien, 
Redout^ and Lagrenee ; that of sculpture, Houdon, celebrated for 
his Washington and Yoltaire ; Pajou and Moitte ; that of music, 
Lesueur, Gossec, M6hul, GrStry, Monsigny and Paisiello. Che- 



THE GRAND EAGLE. 131 

rubini, an Italian by birth but a Frencliman by adoption, was 
excluded, for having sometime j)reviously proved to Napoleon that 
though a good soldier he vi^as a poor musician. The decoration 
given to Denon, the director of the Louvre, was accompanied with 
a flattering reminder of his apt expression at Malmaison, on the 
evening when the First Consul broached his project of instituting 
the order. 

One circumstance connected with the military distribution re- 
quires mention here. Napoleon sent the cross of Grand Officer 
to M. de Lafayette, considering him as ex-general in chief of the 
National Guard. Lafayette declined it, saying that the Legion 
of Honor was "ridiculous." Napoleon felt that this insult was 
gratuitous, and afterwards spoke of it bitterly at St. Helena. 
The refusal was the more unexpected, as Marshal de Rochambeau, 
the companion in arms of Lafayette in America, and the Nestor 
of the old French army, had accepted the cross with expressions 
of gratitude. 

Six months later, Napoleon added to the order a degree supe- 
rior to the four already instituted : it took the name of the Grand 
Eagle, and the number of admissions was limited to sixty. He 
proposed to the crowned heads of Europe an exchange of this de- 
coration against that of similar grade in their respective orders 
of chivalry. The King of Spain accepted the proposal, and sent 
the collar of the Golden Fleece : the King of Portugal sent the 
order of Christ : the King of Prussia the star of the Black Eagle. 
Napoleon now completed the organization of the institution, by 
increasing the number of legal members, and deciding that two 
thousand additional crosses should be distributed exclusively in 
the army. The opposition and the war of epigrams ceased upon 
the battle of Austerlitz, where the new order received its baptism 
of glory : those who had accepted the badge, but who had affected 
a disinclination to wear it, now hastened to attach it to the wil- 
ling and expectant button-hole. 

Some incidents connected with the Legion of Honor, showing 



132 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

the esteem in which it came to be held, will not be out of place 
here. Napoleon, entering Weimar, in 1806, in pursuit of the 
fugitives from Jena, ordered the house inhabited by Goethe to 
be protected by a body of sentmels : he gave the poet himself the 
decoration of chevaher. The historians of the time compared this 
act to that of Alexander at Thebes, who excepted the house which 
had been occupied by Pindar from the destruction impenduig over 
the city. Goethe received from Louis XVIII., in 1818, a higher 
rank in the order and one more in accordance with his reputation. 
At the battle of Eylau, Georges de Lafayette, one of Grou- 
chy 's aids-de-camp, displayed the most remarkable and the most 
opportune valor. Grouchy presented his name for the cross of 
honor. Napoleon erased it. At the battle of Friedland, young 
Lafayette's division decided the victory, and his name was again ■ 
proposed by Grouchy. Napoleon a second time refused. He 
had not forgotten the expression used by his father, some years 
before. The opinion of the army was condemnatory of Napoleon, 
and, upon the advice of Grouchy, Georges de Lafayette withdrew 
from the service. 

Four years after the institution of the Legion, every preju- 
dice against it had disappeared, and all classes of society displayed 
the utmost eagerness to be admitted to its ranks. No station, no 
capacity, no attainment, was above the ambition, deemed innocent 
and legitimate, of holding a position in an order of merit so truly 
national and universal. Napoleon skiHfuUy profited by this shift- 
ing of public opinion in his favor, to enter upon a system of 
exclusion and exaction in his awards of the decoration, which 
rendered it infinitely more precious, by increasing the difficulty 
of obtaining it. 

In 1807, Picard, a dramatist and retired actor, was apprised 
by the Minister of the Interior that he was soon to be made a 
chevaher of the order. Talma, the tragedian, upon learning this 
decision in favor of his comrade, soUcited of Napoleon, with whom 
he was upon terms of friendship and intimacy, a similar distinc- 



TALMA AND CRESCENTINI. 133 

tion. Napoleon replied: " Picard is to receive the cross as an 
author, and not as an actor, for he has quitted the stage. You, 
Talma, cannot quit the stage, for you are the first tragedian of 
the century. Society has conceived a prejudice against actors, 
which it is not in my power to destroy, and this motive compels 
me, though unwillingly, to withhold the decoration you solicit." 
Aware, however, that Talma would have reason to feel aggrieved 
if a distinction withheld from him were conferred upon Picard, 
Napoleon thought proper to give it to neither. 

Upon this subject, Napoleon spoke as follows, at St. Helena : " 
"My system was to confound together every species of merit, and 
to render one single decoration universal : I therefore wished to 
confer it upon Talma. Still I hesitated, in view of the caprices 
of our national manners, and the folly of our prejudices, and ven- 
tured to make, by giving the badge of the Iron Crown to Crescen- 
tini, the tenor, a trial of public opinion which could do no harm. 
The decoration was a foreign one, and Crescentini was a foreigner : 
the act could not compromise the government, beyond perhaps 
drawing upon it the wit of the jesters. But notice the power of 
pubhc opinion : I distributed sceptres as I pleased, but I was un- 
able to secure the success of a simple ribbon — for I believe that 
my experiment was unfortunate, was it not?" " Yery," replied 
a listener; "it produced the utmost sensation in Paris: it re- 
ceived the anathema of the salons : malevolence made ample use 
of it ; it was called the abomination of profanations."^ Had Cre- 
scentini been merely a tenor, the ]Dublic would not, perhaps, have 
protested : he owed the persecution of the wits to the fact that he 
was a soprano, and possessed a voice not conferred upon him by 
nature.^ 

In 1808, Madame de Genlis, lately appointed one of the libra- 
rians of the Arsenal, made an effort in behalf of the admission of 
ladies into the order. She composed an address in furtherance 
of her plan, and collected quite a convincing array of female 

' Las Cases: iii. vi. 246. - Vide Biog. des Contemporains, 11S7. 



134 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

names distinguished in literature, the arts, and even in the sci- 
ences. She cited Mesdames de Stael, Campan, Duvernoy, Cottin 
and herself in letters ; Mesdames Lebrun, Jacotot, Lescot in 
painting, and M'lle Sophie Germain, geometrician and laureate in 
equations. The Academy of Sciences was mortiiied and indig- 
nant at this proceeding, which they considered at once imperti- 
nent and degrading. Madame de Genhs prevailed upon her 
son-in-law. General and Senator Valence, to present the memo- 
rial to JSTapoleon. He did so, though without any hope of a 
favorable result. The emperor, comprehending the whole matter 
at the first sentence, interrupted the unfortunate sponsor in the 
midst of his narrative, and energetically dismissed both petition 
and petitioner. 

jSTapoleon now limited his bestowals of the cross to persons 
acquiring mihtary distinction : his wars required all the stimulus 
of reward and encouragement that became disposable by reason 
of deaths in the order. Somewhat later, however, he gave the 
decoration to Wieland at Weimar, and to the poet Monti at 
Milan ; to Metternich and Prince de Schwartzenberg, upon the 
signing of the treaty of Vienna, in 1809 ; to M. Oberkampf, in 
recognition of his successful competition with the English in cer- 
tain manufactures, of which, till then, they had held the mono- 
poly ; to M. Delessert, for his efforts to obtain sugar from the 
beet-root ; to M. Ternaux, for his French cashmeres ; to David, 
for his Distribution of the Eagles ; and to Raynouard, for his tra- 
gedy of Les Templiers. 

In 1812, Napoleon made a nomination in the order which 
raised it still higher in the esteem of the nation. Hubert Gofiin, 
a miner in the coal district of Liege, was surprised, at an immense 
distance under ground, by an irruption of water. He had one 
foot in the bucket at the moment of the break, and might easily 
have escaped by giving the signal to the men at the rope. He 
preferred to give his place to a blind miner, and to remain with 
his brigade of one hundred men, imprisoned like himself. He 



A MINER CREATED CHEVALIER. 135 

assumed and maintained control over the affrighted herd, now 
mutinous from terror, and caused the excavation of a chamber in 
one of the galleries, beyond the reach of the water. In the mean- 
time, the blind man gave the alarm to the authorities of the city 
of Liege. After five days of arduous labor on the part of the 
engineers and soldiers, and of mute suffering in the darkness of 
the mine by those that survived the first catastrophe, a commu- 
nication was effected. Seventy-two men, out of one hundred, were 
restored to life and liberty. All would have perished without the 
devotion of Goflfin. Napoleon assimilated this trait of heroism to 
a brilliant act upon the field of battle. Groffin was made a mem- 
ber of the Legion of Honor, with an annual pension of six hun- 
dred francs. The French Academy offered a prize for the best 
commemoration, in verse, of the event ; the poet Hubert Mille- 
voye obtained it, together with a pension from ISTapoleon of six 
thousand francs. The admission of Goffin, a laboring miner, into 
an order of chivalry, gained the heart of the nation ; and from 
this period, the Legion of Honor became enthusiastically popular 
among the people as well as in the army. 

The disasters of Moscow caused numerous vacancies in the 
order : so numerous that Russian prisoners taken subsequently by 
the French, were found to have three rows of crosses sewn upon 
their bear-skin caps. These were torn off and returned to the chan- 
cellor's office at Paris. During the sports of the carnival of 1 81 3, at 
Frankfort, a number of young men, disguised as Cossacks, drove 
before them through the streets a dozen persons travestied as 
French officers, each of them ornamented with a huge pasteboard 
cross. This masquerade was so acceptable to the population, that 
Marshal Augereau, appointed soon after governor of the city by 
Napoleon, condemned it to pay a fine of several millions ; and to 
lodge and board, gratuitously, the whole French army now on its 
way to Saxony. 

On his return from Moscow, Napoleon detached his own cross 
from his breast, and gave it with flattering words to Corvisart, 



136 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

his confidential physician. He also admitted numerous scions of 
illustrious families, who possessed no other qualifications than 
those of birth and lineage. In 1813, the number of nominations 
Napoleon had made since the institution of the order, was no less 
than forty-eight thousand, only one thousand four hundred of 
which were in recompense of civil service. This disparity, con- 
siderable as it is, will be largely diminished by the consideration 
that the forty-six thousand six hundred military members did not 
all exist at once. Battle, in thinning the ranks of the army, caused 
a constant renewal of the names composing the order. It is not 
likely, though no documents upon the subject have been made 
public, that the Legion included, at any one period, more than 
thirty thousand members. 

We have spoken thus at length of the Legion of Honor, not 
only on account of the influence it exerted on society and the na- 
tion, but because it is one of the few creations of Napoleon which 
survived him and which stiU exist. Louis XVIII. decreed the 
maintenance of the order, substituting, upon the cross, the head 
of Henry IV. for that of Napoleon. He gave the badge to Duels, 
the poet, who had refused to accept it from Napoleon : to Picard, 
whose disappointment has been described : to M. de Choiseul, the 
patriarch of history, to whom Napoleon did not offer it, fearing a 
refusal : to Arago, successor of Lalande in the Bureau of Longi- 
tudes : to Biot, his colleague : to Cherubini, who offended the em- 
peror in 1804 : to M. Guizot : to Dupaty, dramatist ; to Ville- 
main and Cormenin : to Firmin Didot, the typographer, and to 
Horace Vernet, painter. Napoleon, on his return from Elba in 
March, 1815, annulled aU the appointments made during his exile, 
and restored the order to the position in which it stood at the 
entrance of the allies. In July of the same year, Louis XVIII. 
in his turn annulled these decisions, and issued a decree definitively 
organizing his " Royal Order of the Legion of Honor." In 1821, 
he admitted to the ranks Chateaubriand, Charles Nodier and 
Lamartine. 



INFLUENCE OF THE LEGION OF HONOR. 137 

The institution of the Legion of Honor was one of the most 
daring, and it must be admitted in view of the character of the 
French people, and the actual condition of affairs, one of the most 
fruitful and beneficent acts of Napoleon's reign. In contributing 
to arrest confusion and consolidate society, to substitute the dis- 
tinctions of merit for the divisions of caste, to conciliate faction 
and promote effort in the various paths to glory, it deserves to 
rank above the Concordat and on a level with the Civil Code. 
Historians whose opinions have won regard, have pronounced it 
altogether the first and most productive achievement of his 
genius. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The Empire proclaimed — Attitude of the People — Jests upon the rapid Fortunes of the Bona- 
partes — The Clamor for Office— Bonapartists, Bourbons and Jacobins— Mock Receptions — 
Napoleon's Irritation — Brunet and Napoleon's Bust — The Court Journal — Extravagance. 

SIMULTANEOUSLY with his labors of legislation, Ms revival 
of ancient or Ms creation of new institutions, and his prosecu- 
tion of mihtary designs, Bonaparte paid a constant and earnest 
attention to the necessary preparation of the public mind for the 
restoration of the throne. It is not possible here to detail the 
processes by which this event was realized, and monarchy revived, 
after an interregnum of twenty-two years. It is sufficient to say 
that the Empire was proclaimed on the 18th of May, 1804, and 
that while Paris coldly acquiesced, the provinces joyfully acceded. 
The epoch was unfortunate — for the Due d'Enghien was hardly 
two months dead, and the deep and poignant emotion which had 
been excited by the catastrophe in which the young Bourbon per- 
ished, was far from having subsided. The Parisians would doubt- 
less have welcomed the Empire with enthusiasm, had it followed 
either Campo Formio, Marengo, the Concordat or Lun^ville. But 
the late execution and the impending continental wars were sin- 
ister auspices for the inauguration of a dynasty. The attitude of 
the people of Paris was one of indifference, not of positive hosti- 
lity. Still, on occasions which seemed to call for a manifestation 
of enthusiasm, the public was apt to make a demonstration in a 
contrary sense. Thus the night before the proclamation, Carion 



THE EMPIRE PROCLAIMED. 139 

de Nisas produced at the Theatre Fran9ais a tragedy entitled 
Peter the Great. Worthless as a literary work, it was distasteful 
from the excess of its flattery of Napoleon, and was hissed through- 
out. The police caused the pupils of the Polytechnic school — all 
devoted to Bonaparte — to attend the second representation, but 
their presence only served to increase the tumult and embitter the 
opposition.^ 

" The gravity with which Kapoleon pursued and attained the 
Empire met with persistent laughter at Paris," says Capefigue ; 
"the public could not admit these hasty fortunes, improvised as 
in a single day. It accepted Napoleon, because from the splendor 
of his glory no one could escape ; but his family, his brothers, 
sisters and cousins — could they claim the same respect ? Could 
the nation regard with approval these marvellous dignities tossed 
at them by an undiscriminating destiny ? Every one knew that 
Cardinal Fesch had been a simple army intendant ; that Madame 
Lsetitia, poor though noble, had brought up her family with in- 
finite difficulty ; that Josephine was the hail-fellow-well-met of 
the commissaries of war ; and Louis a young officer of no greater 
merit than many other graduates of the colleges. What did the 
public not say, in its confidential chronicles, upon the early life 
of this theatrically organized court ? And now all these people, 
by a magic stroke of the pen, had become Imperial Highnesses, 
and the nation was to kneel in the dust before them. Parisian 
wit allowed itself free play with these princes so fantastically ele- 
vated, and revenged itself in puns for the forced respect it was 
called upon to pay to a borrowed nobility." ^ 

Upon the proclamation of the Empire, and the publication of 
the intelligence that Napoleon's household was to be organized 
upon a footing becoming his new position, the clamor and in- 
trigue for office became, on the part of persons of all shades of 
opinion, violent and unprincipled to a degree such as had never 
been witnessed in France. Not only did those who had from the 

1 Salgues' Memoirs, v. 4T1. - L'Europe sous Napoleon, v. 302. 



140 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

beginning espoused Napoleon's cause, make a combined onset 
upon the various places to be created, but tbe most lofty families 
of the old nobility, the bearers of names illustrious in legitimacy 
for centuries, did not hesitate to lay their Bourbon allegiance at 
the feet of the parvenu sovereign. Stranger still, many repentant 
Jacobins — haunters and disciples of Robespierre — were eager and 
anxious to wear the new sovereign's livery. 

Napoleon certainly desired to give place and preferment to 
members of the old nobihty and representatives of the aristocracy 
of birth ; but it does not seem, as has been persistently asserted, 
that he resorted to intrigue or descended to importunity to in- 
duce them to accept office. He looked upon the nobihty as supple 
and obsequious by habit and tradition : he considered them from 
their education, their wealth, their connection with the aristo- 
cracies of other kingdoms, the necessary accompaniment of a 
throne. He noticed that their service was graceful and zealous. 
"A Montmorency would throw himself at the feet of the em- 
press," he said, "to tie her shoe-strings, while the wife of Marshal 
Lannes would consider such an act degrading : she would fear to 
be taken for a waiting-maid — a hesitation which, to the Montmo- 
rency, would never be likely to occur." Still he did not forgive 
them for their marked avoidance of the camp and their eager 
preference of the court. "I showed them," he afterwards said, 
"the path of glory, so honorably trod by their ancestors; all 
recoiled with shameful dismay. I inadvertently opened to them 
the door of my ante-chamber, and they at once dashed into it in 
throngs." 

He soon saw that any attempt to listen to the innumerable 
demands for place, or to base his choice ujdou the petitions pre- 
sented, or the certificates and vouchers submitted, would create 
ten enemies where it would satisfy one elect. He determined to 
apportion his household according to his own judgment, in obe- 
dience to his own preferences, and in view of the personal merit 
and qualifications of the candidates. The list, as he drew it up, 



THE JESTS OP THE MALCONTENTS. 141 

went successfully into operation, and was never materially altered. 
It will be passed in review in a subsequent chapter. 

The faubourg St. Grermain, then, as now, the seat and centre 
of the old nobility, was naturally the focal point of the opposition, 
in spite of the numerous offices it solicited at Napoleon's hands. 
Unable to contend against the new order of things with any other 
weapon than i-idicule — an efficient and deadly one, however, in 
France — it employed this weapon with telling and murderous ef- 
fect. Epigrams upon the awkwardnesses, the improprieties and 
the incongruities of the new court and the new nobility, circulated 
through Paris with that extraordinary rapidity which character- 
izes the spread of jests that it would be penal to put in print. 
The scandalous chronicles of the imperial family, the tone, man- 
ners and spirit of those who were to develop the new institu- 
tions, afforded amusement and occupation to the idle as well as to 
the busy tongues of the disaffected. Ladies of the old regime 
held mock receptions at their houses, where the demeanor, address 
and costume of the ladies of the new court were caricatured and 
held up to ridicule, often legitimate and as often unjust. 

"The faubourg St. Germain," says the author just quoted, 
" discontented and pouting, was proud of its disaffected fraction 
of royalists — an accomplished and disdainful throng who refused 
to accept even the benefits of the Empire. Its only vengeance, 
thus far, was to rail at the new regime ; it composed and told 
endless stories upon the Tuileries, the stiffness of its manners, 
the awkwardness of its ceremonial and its ritual of reverences, 
which substituted the starched bearing of an awkward squad for 
the easy and respectful attitudes of persons trained to elegant 
life. Napoleon was weak enough to be influenced by this tattle : 
becoming alternately uneasy and irritated, he replied by decrees 
of exile to the merest jests of women ; he, grand and imposing as 
an antique bronze, allowed himself to be afflicted by these pin- 
pricks and fan-strokes dealt by a provoked marchioness."^ 

1 L'Kurope sous NapoIiSon, v. 209. 



142 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

The spirit of opposition broke out even upon the stage, in the 
form of disguised epigrams and kmges palpable only to the select 
few. History has preserved quite a quiverful of these envenomed 
shafts. One will give a fair idea of the whole. Brunet of the 
Varietes, the first low comedian of the time, received in the 
course of a farce, the bust of Napoleon, in plaster. After ex- 
amining it, he said, " Je I'aimerais mieux en terre," in which the 
apjparent meaning is that he would prefer the bust in clay — the 
hidden sense being that he should like to see Bonaparte under 
ground. Brunet was several times sent to prison for pleasantries 
of this sort. 

Napoleon may be said to have invented the Court Journal. 
No sovereign before him ever admitted the public to such an inti- 
mate acquaintance with the domestic economy of the palace, or 
the employments and little daily recreations of its occupants. 
The Moniteur never failed to devote a portion of its space to a 
record of what their Majesties did yesterday, and what they pro- 
posed to do to-morrow. It chronicled the variations of an impe- 
rial headache with greater precision and detail than it could 
devote to the phases of an eclipse. A water spout was of less 
interest to the ofl&cial organ, than a mass at the Tuileries or sher- 
bet and syrup at Malmaison. It exhibited a similar, though very 
properly a subdued, delight, in chronicling the avocations of the 
imperial brothers and sisters ; for the Princess Pauline and the 
Prince Joseph had been at the same time admitted to the honors 
of Monitorial pubhcity. The movements of the favorite generals, 
even, were registered in this extatic column, if they offered an 
occasion, even the most remote, of coupling with them his Majesty's 
name or the most indifferent of his Majesty's acts. Thus the Moni- 
teur of the 16th of February, 1805, gravely and conspicuously an- 
nounced that General Leopold Berthier had been gratified with a 
seat and a ride, the day before, in one of the emperor's carriages. 

Napoleon could not avoid noticing — and he did so with evi- 
dent annoyance — ^the different use made of their money by those 



PARSIMONY OF THE NEW COURT. 143 

whose birtli and former position had accustomed them to the pos- 
session of wealth, and by those whom he had himself raised from 
obscm-ity and poverty. The nobles of the old regime disbursed 
their salaries freely, though not prodigally, while the establish- 
ments of his own grandees testified to the existence of a spirit of 
parsimony and illiberality. Napoleon desired the gentlemen of 
his court to ' ' spend " their money, and not to ' ' invest " it. He did 
not hesitate to give currency to anecdotes upon the avarice of 
such of them as deserved it, and was apt to bestow upon them 
the unamiable title of " grigoux." He felt that they were laying 
by what they could spare from their necessary expenditure, for the 
moment when they should perchance be involved in his own fall, 
and he could ill excuse a forecast which implied, in the protege, 
a hope of surviving the ruin of the protector. 

Marmont spent more money than any other of Napoleon's 
generals, whence he was ironically called Marmont I. Junot was 
for a similar reason called Marmont II. Madame Junot's ex- 
penses for her toilet were no less than two hundred thousand 
francs a year. Useless extravagance such as this, Napoleon con- 
demned, but he encouraged lavish expenditure on the part of 
those able to afford it. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Madame Kecamier — Description of her Personal Appearance — Her Character — Fouclie's Propo- 
sal — Carohne Bonaparte an Accomplice — Madame Eecamier's Banishment — Her Wanderings 
in England, Italy and Switzerland — The Prince of Prussia and the Duke of Wellington in 
love with her — Canova's Bust of Dante's Beatrice — The Inconsistencies in her Character — 
Napoleon's Rejection of the Cooperation of Women. 

CONSPICUOUS for beauty, virtue and accompKshments, among 
the ladies of the early imperial epoch, was Madame Reca- 
mier, whose name has been already mentioned. She was a na- 
tive of Lyons, her maiden name being Jeanne-Frangoise-Julie- 
Adelaide Bernard. She was habitually called Juliet, though, as 
has been aptly said of her, destiny was to furnish her no Romeo. 
She married in 1793, at the age of sixteen, a banker by the name 
of R^camier. Her husband was much older than herself, and her 
feelings toward him seem to have been little more than fihal. At 
the period of which we are speaking she was twenty-seven years 
old, and was regarded as the most beautiful woman in Europe — 
Pauline Bonaparte enjoying the lesser credit of being the most 
beautiful princess. Madame Junot thus speaks of Madame R6ca- 
mier in her Memoirs : 

" It was at this period that I first saw Madame Recamier. I 
had heard her much spoken of, and I acknowledge that my mo- 
ther had prejudiced my judgment concerning her, in persuading 
herself, and consequently me, that Madame R6camier's reputation 
was wholly exaggerated, and that she must necessarily be a per- 
son of such overbearing pretensions that no moderate qualifica- 



t 




I)iawnbyJ,Chaiiip,i| 



11^/ miSCAMIEM 



MADAME RECAMIER. 145 

tions could expect any notice, in presence of her noisy and sense- 
less appropriation of the homage of fashion. 

" Great then was my surprise when I beheld that lovely face, 
so blooming, so childish, and yet so beautiful, and still greater 
when I observed the timid uneasiness she experienced in her tri- 
umph. No doubt it was pleasing to be proclaimed the unrivalled 
beauty of the fete, but it was evident that she was pained by the 
envious glances of the women, who could not wholly suppress the 
ill-will with which they witnessed her monopoly of admiration. 

"Madame Recamier truly deserved this homage: she was 
a really pretty woman ! ^ Nothing is more common than those 
everyday faces with large eyes, a straight nose, a mouth with good 
teeth and rosy lips, the whole accompanied by falling shoulders 
and well-made limbs. But ask those eyes for a glance of fire, ask 
those lips to open with an intellectual smile, ask that Greek or 
Roman nose to derange its solemn line, to show by the smallest 
movement of the nostrils that this fine face can exhibit a play of the 
muscles ; ask these things, and you will find that your statue will 
manifest the silence and coldness, as well as the beauty, of marble. 

" These requisites Madame Recamier possessed in perfection : 
the expression of her eye was mild and intellectual ; her smile was 
gracious, her language fascinating ; in her whole person was the 
charm of native grace, goodness and intelligence. She reminded 
me at first sight of the Madonnas of the pious Italian painters ; 
but the resemblance consisted whoUy in expression — not in regu- 
larity of features. It was the mind which animated her eyes and 
blushed in her cheek : the smile which so frequently played upon 
her rosy lips expressed the unafi'ected joy of a young heart, happy 
in pleasing and in being beloved. 

' ' At the time when I first met Madame Recamier, she was in 
the prime of her beauty and of her brilliant existence. M. Reca- 
mier was at the head of one of the first banking-houses of Paris ; 

1 The portrait of Madame R6camier, upon the opposite page, is from the original painted by Gerard for 
her husband. It is now at the Abbaye-aux-Bois, at Paris, where Madame Recamier died. 

19 



146 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Ms misfortunes were not then foreseen. He had, therefore, the 
means of giving to his charming consort all the enjoyments of 
wealth and luxury, as a poor return for her constant attentions and 
the happiness which she shed over his home and his life. M. R4- 
camier's house was a delightful residence : nothing could be com- 
pared to the fgtes he gave to foreigners recommended to him, and 
whose choice of a banker was no doubt often determined by the 
desire of an introduction to his wife. Curiosity attracted them, 
and they were retained by a charm which acted equally upon old 
and young, male and female. 

" Madame Recamier is an essential character in contemporary 
memoirs ; it is not often that a woman is to be found to embellish 
the era of her life with attractions such as hers : a woman whose 
friendship has been courted by persons the most remarkable of 
the age for their talents ; a woman whose beauty has thrown at 
her feet all the men whose eyes have once been set upon her ; 
whose love has been the object of universal desire, yet whose 
virtue has remained pure ; whose unsullied reputation never suf- 
fered from the attacks of jealousy or envy ; a woman who could 
always sacrifice her own enjoyment to afford consolation — which 
none could do more sweetly and effectually — to any friend in 
affliction. To the world, Madame Recamier is a celebrated wo- 
man : to those who had the happiness to know and to appreciate 
her, she was a peculiar and gifted being, formed by Nature as a 
perfect model in one of her most beneficent moods." ^ 

There is not probably another woman of modern times upon 
whom a similar eulogium could be pronounced. But the very 
fascinations and virtues of Madame Recamier were soon to bring 
upon her the ban of the emperor's displeasure. Napoleon exiled 
her from Paris, for reasons which may be briefly detailed. She 
was residing at her country seat at Clichy, surrounded by all that 
could render hfe happy and desirable. Fouch^, Napoleon's Min- 
ister of Police, one day presented himself, and begged her to 

I d'Abr. i. 488. 



AN INSIDIOUS PROPOSAL. 147 

accept the post of lady of honor to the empress. " Consider the 
emperor's situation," said Fouche ; "he wants a guide, a female 
friend — and where can he find one ? Among the wives of his 
generals? Impossible, for it would excite scandal." "And why- 
are you so obliging," asked Madame K^camier, "as to suppose 
that scandal would spare me ?" "The case is a very different one. 
You are, to be sure, as young as any of them ; but your marriage, 
and the station in which it places you, have established your re- 
putation : it is pure and unblemished. You are privileged to be 
the emperor's friend, for it is a friend and not a mistress that he 
wants. I know the cravings of his heart ; I know he is unhappy 
at not being understood, and that he would gladly exchange 
hours of victory and noisy acclamations which play round the ear 
without reaching the heart, for a few moments of social and con- 
fidential converse. He is weary, too, of daily encountering scenes 
of jealousy ; from this the pure and sacred connection I wish to 
see established between you and him would be exempt." "But," 
returned Madame Recamier, quite unconvinced, "how can I as- 
certain that it would be agreeable to the emperor that I should 
accept this situation ; and how would it please the empress, whose 
whole household is already appointed ? And, besides, I love my 
liberty." 

" I ask nothing of you which will interfere with your liberty," 
returned Fouche. "You are not requested to undertake any 
burdensome duty. Your post in the household will be that of 
the empress's friend, but more particularly the emperor's. The 
friend of the emperor ! The friend of Napoleon ! Consider a 
little : reflect on my proposition, and I am certain, if you are not 
prejudiced, your noble and generous soul will accept it with 
delight." 

Madame Recamier, dazzled by the seductive offer, did reflect 
upon the propriety of accepting it. She was yet totally ignorant 
of the real purpose to which it was the cover and pretext. She 
felt, as she said, " that in the proposed capacity she might sway 



148 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

with a kindly influence the destinies of millions of men." In 
this state of things, she was invited by the Emperor's sister, 
Caroline, to breakfast at her hotel. The princess, who was either 
an accomplice of Fouche, or a confidante of Napoleon, conversed 
of friendship, and the charms of that Platonic sentiment between 
a man and a pure and virtuous woman. " The Emperor is wor- 
thy of such happiness," she said, " and would be fully capable of 
appreciating it ; but he has no such friend. And how is one 
to be selected for him, from amongst the multitude of our court 
ladies?" 

She then inquired of Madame Recamier if she liked the thea- 
tres, and which she preferred. "The Com^die Fi'an^aise," she 
replied. "Oh, then," said the Princess, "my box is at your 
service ; as it is in the lower tier, it requires no ceremony of 
dress ; promise me to make use of it." Madame Recamier readily 
promised, and early the next morning received the following 
note : 

"The managers of the Com^die Prancaise are informed that 
her Imperial Highness, the Princess Caroline, gives Madame Re- 
camier admission to her box. They are likewise informed that 
when Madame Recamier uses the box, she is to choose her own 
company ; and that no person is to be admitted, even though a 
member of the Princess's or the Grand Duke's household, with- 
out Madame Recamier's special permission." 

It was impossible even for a person as guileless and unsus- 
pecting as Madame Recamier, not to be convinced, from the tenor 
of this note, of the purpose of its writer. The box faced the Em- 
peror's, and the privacy with which she was to occupy it bespoke 
the intention of the Princess that it was to be the scene of an 
appointment. Madame Recamier sent her thanks to her Imperial 
Highness, but never made use of the box. It does not appear 
that the Emperor or Fouch^ ever made any further overtures. 
The latter, however, felt inimical to her for the rejection of his pro- 
posal, and, at a subsequent date, seized the occasion of her visit to 



EXILE OF MADAME RECAMIER. 149 

Madame de Stael, exiled at Coppet, as a motive for banishing her 
from Paris. To this the Emperor consented, and her exile was 
soon publicly announced. Greneral Junot, now Due d'Abrantes, 
and deep in the Emperor's confidence, dared not interest himself 
for her recall. But he wrote thus to his wife : " Laura, my heart 
is oppressed and sick, when I think of the exile of Madame Re- 
camier. I told you long ago that I had once passionately loved 
her ; my friendship is now only that of a brother, united with a 
sentiment of respectful admiration. This blow renders desolate 
the future existence of an unfortunate woman who deserves the 
homage of all who pronounce her name. Laura, I conjure you, 
see the Empress — see Queen Hortense — see the Emperor — but 
no, you must not speak to him. Alas ! how can he who is so 
just, so great, so good, how can he voluntarily oppress a feeble 
woman !"^ 

Madame Recamier, on being informed of her banishment, 
said to one of Napoleon's officers, "Ah, sir, a great man maybe 
pardoned the weakness of loving women, but not that of fearing 
them." 

In reference to this matter, an authority noted for its caution 
says : " It is beheved that Napoleon, at the period of his highest 
glory, was taught by Madame Recamier how little calculated is 
the most brilliant destiny to dazzle the simple instinct of inno- 
cence, or pervert the sentiment of innate dignity."^ 

"Madame R^camier's transient visit to Coppet," says Alison, 
' ' was the pretense for including her in Madame de Stael's sen- 
tence of banishment. The graces which had won the admiration 
of aU Europe, and which had disdained the advances of the Em- 
peror himself, were consigned in a distant province to the privacy 
of rural retirement ; and the ruler of the East and the West 
deemed himself insecure on the throne of Charlemagne, unless 
the finest genius then in Europe and the most beautiful woman 
in France, were exiled from his dominions."^ 

1 rt'Abr. ii. 825. = Biog. ties Contemporains, v. 642. " Europe, vi. 179. 



150 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Pelet, the reporter of the debates of the Council of State, says 
upon the same subject, " JSTapoleon's jealousy of Madame Reca- 
mier's beauty and influence carried him to very unjustifiable 
lengths. Her husband, who was a great banker in Paris, became 
bankrupt, and he seriously proposed in the Council of State ' that 
she should be subjected to joint responsibiUty with him for the 
debts of the bank ! ' In wishing thus to render her liable, he was 
actuated by a special spite against that celebrated lady. The Ht- 
tle court with which she was surrounded, on account of her in- 
comparable beauty, excited his jealousy as much as did the talents 
of Madame de Stael. Elevated as he was above all others, he 
could not see without pain, that she shared with him the public 
attention. He could not even endure that M. Gall, with his well 
known system of craniology, should be more talked of than 
himself."^ 

"Madame Recamier could not love Napoleon," says Thibau- 
deau, apologetically, "but this was no reason why he should let 
fall upon her his arm of iron. Her exile has been attributed to 
her refusal to be lady of honor and the Emperor's mistress : 
Pouche is said to have managed the intrigue, and to have re- 
venged himself for his failure. In view of the reasonable motives 
for her banishment, it is, to say the least, useless to suggest ro- 
mantic ones."^ He suggests no reasonable ones, however, and 
there appears no reason to doubt the entire accuracy of the story 
as we have given it. 

Madame Recamier was now forced to lead an errant and a 
homeless life. She spent many years at Lyons, in the poor accom- 
modations afforded by a second class inn. She amused her leisure 
with her piano, drawing materials and books. She was visited 
by many persons from Paiis, sufficiently courageous to brave the 
displeasure of Napoleon. She went to Naples, where Murat and 
Caroline Bonaparte were upon the throne. Though the former 
had been one of her rejected lovers, and the latter was the sister 

1 Opinions lie Napoleon, 261. -i Thib. iT. 201. 



MADAME RECAMIER AT COPPET. 151 

of her persecutor, they both gave her every assurance of interest, 
and exerted themselves to mitigate the hardships of her exile. 

At Rome, Canova executed her bust — ^not the bust of Madame 
R^camier, as he said himself, but the marble embodiment of the 
impression he received in contemplating her. This exquisite 
work does not bear the name of the model v?ho sat for it, Canova 
preferring to make it an ideal ; it is entitled " Dante's Beatrice," 
realizing, by what seems an apparition too lovely not to be celes- 
tial, the vision of the Florentine poet. 

In England, Madame Recamier was received by the Prince of 
"Wales, afterwards king, and by the Duchess of Devonshire. Her 
portrait was engraved by Bartolozzi ; the demand for it was uni- 
versal, and large orders came even from distant lands, from the 
Ionian Islands, and from Hindostan and China. 

She made frequent and prolonged stays at Madame de Stael's 
residence at Coppet. This spot was the scene of the most ro- 
mantic event of her life. The Prince of Prussia, being on his way 
to Italy, a prisoner on parole, after the battle of Eylau, stopped 
at Coppet, with the intention of paying his respects to Madame de 
Stael, and of then proceeding on his journey. But meeting Ma- 
dame Recamier there, he remained all summer. The Prince and 
the beauty, both victims of Napoleon's ambition, soon felt for 
each other a mutual interest: that of the Prince ripened into pas- 
sionate love. He conceived the plan of marrying her, in spite of 
his rank and her husband. He confided the project to Madame 
de Stael, who eagerly favored it, "thinking," according to Napo- 
leon, " that it might throw a romantic interest iiponher country- 
seat." ^ He was soon recalled to Berlin, and from thence pressed 
his suit by letters, with the same warmth he had used in per- 
son. Madame Recamier, who would appear not to have been 
indifferent to her suitor, refused, however, to share his royal 
honors ; the manners of the age would have excused her in seek- 
ing for a divorce ; but her generosity and good feeling towards 

1 Las Cases, iv. 195. 



152 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

her husband, now advanced in years — to say nothing of a higher 
sense of duty^ — ^prevented her from attempting a release by means 
so unworthy. The Prince then wrote with his own blood and 
sent to Madame Recamier, a promise of marriage in case the death 
of her husband should render the alUance possible. She pre- 
served the paper for a short time and then returned it. 

Napoleon spoke of Madame Eecamier at St. Helena, and said 
that various letters intercepted by the police and read by them, 
contained unequivocal proof of the extreme attachment of the 
Prince of Prussia. This episode in the life of Madame Recamier 
furnished Madame de Genlis with the subject of one of her most 
interesting romances : " Le Chateau de Coppet." 

The fall of Napoleon restored Madame Recamier to Paris and 
to 'society. Lord Wellington, who, it would appear, was pecu- 
harly susceptible to the charms and attractions of women, was 
there in 1814. He, too, made a declaration to Madame Recamier, 
being, according to the Duchess d'Abrantes, keenly bitten by the 
epidemic ; she received his advances according to her custom, which 
was never to consider the proposition as insulting, and to seek to 
convert the lover into a friend. The Iron Duke was graciously 
given to understand that to indulge the hope of changing her 
resolution was a simple waste of time. But after the battle of 
Waterloo, he remembered that Madame Recamier had been ex- 
iled and persecuted by Napoleon, and thought that perhaps his 
victory over the tyrant would plead with her in his favor. He 
hastened to the house of Madame Recamier, and, throwing him- 
self upon his knees, exclaimed : "I have conquered him!" She 
treated him this time with severity, and rebuked him with such 
sternness as she could command, for presuming to suppose that 
his victory over the French could be a title to favor in her eyes. 
She begged him to remember that the sword he had laid at her 
feet was stained with the blood of her own countrymen. Madame 
Junot does not fail to make merry over the discomfiture of the 
hero of Waterloo : "He was on his knees, and in a position not 



DEATH OF MADAME RECAMIEE. 153 

unlike that of the Knight of the Rueful Countenance, to whom, 
indeed, he bore a singular resemblance ; for at this period he had 
aU the thinness and a good deal of the figure of that cavalier : do 
what he would, his face and demeanor never were those of a man 
accustomed to conquer by the heart as by the sword." ' 

Madame R^camier received the advances of age not merely 
with resignation, but with satisfaction, and society was to learn 
from her who was deemed the most perfect woman in Europe, 
how gracefully the sceptre may be laid aside. "When I saw," 
she said, "that the httle chimney-sweepers in the street no 
longer turned to look at me, I felt that it was all over." She 
died at I'Abbaye-aux-Bois, early in the year 1849. 

The best appreciation of the character of Madame R^camier 
is that of M. de Sainte-Beuve. The following passage, though it 
perhaps does her injustice, by explaining her constant virtue upon 
the supposition that she was incapable of love, is nevertheless 
eloquent and descriptive : 

"In regard to Madame R^camier, I ask this question: Did 
she ever love? I answer, confidently, no. ISTo, she never loved ; 
she never loved, and never felt passion. Instead of possessing 
that deep need of loving borne by every soul attuned to tender- 
ness, she was actuated by an infinite desire to please, or rather 
to be loved, and by an active will and an ardent capacity to repay 
love by kindness. We who saw her in her dechning years, and 
who caught here and there a ray of her divine goodness, we know 
that the source was profound and the stream abundant, and that 
she warmed her friendships by that fire with which she never 
kindled love. 

"There are certain natures that are born pure, and which 
receive an inalienable gift of innocence. They cross, unharmed, 
hke Arethusa, the perilous wave : they resist fire like the chil- 
dren of Holy Writ, whose furnace was cooled by gentle dews. 
Madame R^camier had need of this protecting genius around her 

I M6moire3 de la Restauration, iii. 278. 

20 



154 , THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

and in her, for the world in which she lived was a tumultuous 
and ardent one, and she never sought either to shun or to disarm 
temptation. 

"At the moment of her first appearance, under the Consulate, 
already for some years married, we see her at once surrounded, 
feasted and passionately loved. Lucien, Napoleon's brother, was 
the first historical personage to love her. Lucien loved her ; he 
was not repelled, but was never to be accepted. Such is the deh- 
cate distinction. I saw, not long since, in the palace of the late 
King of HoUand, at the Hague, an admkable statue of Eve — Eve 
in that supreme crisis of innocence, in which a woman plays with 
the danger that threatens her, or talks of it under her voice, to 
herself or with another. This moment of indecision, which with 
Eve came to harm, was, in Madame Recamier, repeated and pro- 
longed in a thousand shapes, during the brilliant and often inju- 
dicious years of her youth : but it was always checked and 
subdued in time by a stronger sentiment and her ever present 
virtue. Exposed to the passions which she excited and of which 
she was re ally ignorant, she was as imprudent and yet as self- 
reliant, as curious and yet as confident, as a child or a novice. 

"She confronted the peril with a smUe, and in consciousness 
of safety, not unhke the Christian kings of the olden time, who 
went forth in holy week to heal the sick. She did not doubt her 
own purity nor her sweet conciliatory magic. She seemed almost 
to seek to pierce your heart, that she might perform the miracle 
of restoring you. When an unfortunate complained or reproached 
her, she said with provoking clemency, ' Come and I wiU cure you.' 
And she succeeded with many, with the gi'eater number even. 
All her friends, with few exceptions, were her lovers at the out- 
set. She had many, and she preserved them nearly all. M. de 
Montlosier said to her one day that she could say with the Cid : 
' Five Hundred of my friends.' She was really a sorceress in her 
art of converting love insensibly to friendship, at the same time 
that the latter was suffered to retain aU the perfume of the for- 



CHAEACTER OF MADAME RECAMIER. 155 

mer sentiment. She would have arrested the emotions of every 
heart at April. There her own had remained, at that first dawn 
of spring, when the orchard, yet leafless, is filled with pale, though 
fragrant blossoms. 

"Bernadotte was one of her chevaliers. Mathieu de Mont- 
morency loved her passionately, and was thus the rival of his own 
son, Adrien. He wrote to her on one occasion thus : ' My son 
worships you, and you know my own sentiments. It is the lot 
of all the Montmorencies, indeed ; though we do not all die, we 
are at least aU stricken.' Madame Recamier was the first to 
narrate and to smile at these incidents in her life. But serious 
complications sometimes followed. It was not every man thus 
attracted and ensnared, that would be as easily led and eluded as 
were this pacific dynasty of the Montmorencies. Her gentle hand 
could not always subdue the mutinies and the violence that her 
provoking loveliness produced. In playing with the passions 
which she only sought to charm, but which she inflamed more 
than she believed, she resembled the youngest of the Graces, 
yoking and irritating lions. Imprudent as Innocence, she loved 
her own peril and the peril of others. But in this cruel and dan- 
gerous practice, she troubled many hearts, and ulcerated others. 
Though she never knew it, women were sacrificed and wounded 
to the quick for her sake. This is a serious matter, and one 
which she finally came to comprehend ; it is a lesson which the 
profound respect we attach to her noble memory does not forbid 
us to call to mind. So she did not regret her youth when it had 
passed, nor the storms of passion she had been wont to provoke. 
She could not conceive of happiness beyond the pale of duty. 
She placed the ideal of romance in marriage, where unfortunately 
she did not find it. More than once, in the midst of her triumphs, 
and at festivities of which she was the queen, she withdrew for 
an instant to weep."^ 

Such was the character of this remarkable and charming woman, 

I Causeries du Lundi, i. 99. 



156 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

as drawn by one who has made the epoch of her career his study. 
Her exile by Napoleon was an act not only unjust, but impolitic 
and injudicious in a reformer of morals and a renovator of society. 
But Napoleon was perversely unwilling to acknowledge the in- 
fluence of women, and he probably never realized that in banishing 
Madame Recamier, he was positively repeUing the services and the 
cooperation of one who, beyond all others, beyond Josephine even, 
was capable of gracing, ameliorating and moulding the restored 
society of the Empire. This influence she did exert, later, upon the 
society of the Restoration, at a period, too, when her beauty was 
less dazzling, and when there was also less need for its beneficent 
exercise. She might have done for Napoleon what she did for 
Louis XYIII. Under the latter sovereign, it was said of her that 
she brought the art of friendshij) to perfection ; that she disarmed 
party spirit, softened the asperity of discord, reconciled hostility 
and arrested dispute. But Napoleon did not care to enlist this 
species of influence in his cause ; and it was this indifference 
which deterred him, when Madame Recamier's exile was proposed 
for another motive, from opposing a sacrifice at once wrong in 
its principle and inopportune as to its policy. 



CHAPTER XV. 

The Code of Etiquette— The Grand Marshal— Governors of the Palaces— Prefects— Chamber- 
lains— Grand Master of the Horse— The Pages— The Aids-de-Camp— Grand Master of Cere- 
monies The Palace of the Tuileries— Its Divisions and Apartments — Meals— PunctiUo at 

Table — ^Napoleon's Opinion on Eating in Public. 

THE etiquette, the ceremonial and the ritual of observances 
proper for the new regime, were laboriously discussed in a 
sort of Coimcil of State, assembled for the purpose, and Napoleon 
took an active part in the debate. He was somewhat of a for- 
malist and martinet in these matters, and sought, by personally 
attending to them, to surround his throne with the traditional 
honors and the customary accessories of legitimacy. The divi- 
sion of labor and the distribution of offices grouped together in 
this chapter, were in a great measure the work of the Emperor 
himself, and form a singular proof of the versatihty of the man 
of whom it was said that "he thought at the same moment of the 
invasion of England and the cut of a chamberlain's coat, and who 
dated from his head-quarters at the Kremlin, the famous regu- 
lations for the Com^die Francjaise, known as the Decree of Mos- 
cow." "Whoever," said Madame de Stael, " could suggest an 
additional piece of etiquette from the olden time, propose an ad- 
ditional reverence, a new mode of knocking at the door of an 
ante-chamber, a more ceremonious method of presenting a peti- 
tion, or folding a letter, was received as if he had been a bene- 
factor of the human race." 

The code of etiquette, a bulky collection of eight hundred and 



158 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

nineteen articles, was intended to anticipate every possible situa- 
tion and supply directions for meeting every contingency, whether 
proximate or remote. Napoleon gave his reasons at St. Helena : 
" I was rising above the level of the crowd, and it was indispen- 
sable to create myself an exterior, to compose a dignity and a 
gravity, in one word, to establish a ceremonial : otherwise I 
should have been daily tapped upon the shoulder. In France, 
we are naturally inclined to ill-timed famiharity ; we are instinc- 
tively courtiers and obsequious at the outset ; but, if not re- 
pressed, this familiarity soon ripens into insolence."^ On another 
occasion, he said that a monarch only existed in a state of civih- 
zation, and was always dressed ; he could not exist naked and 
in a state of nature. 

From this volume, we make such condensed extracts as are 
necessary to give the reader an adequate idea of the duties of the 
various ladies and gentlemen composing the imperial household ; 
of the ceremonial customary on official as well as informal occa- 
sions, and of the salaries attached to the different situations and 
sinecures of the court. The names are appended of such func- 
tionaries as seem of importance, during the first period of the 
Empire — extending from the Coronation to the Divorce. 

THE GRAND MARSHAL OF THE PALACE. 

The duties of this office were the military command in the 
imperial palaces, the responsibility of their repair and furnishing, 
the control of the tables, the fire and light, the silver, the linen, 
the liveries and the wages. He was the head of the police, and 
of the detachments of the Imperial Guard, detailed for service in 
the palaces ; he received reports of every event that happened, 
and of every individual who was lodged within the gates, or who 
obtained admittance into them. He alone was empowered to 
inflict punishment. No furniture could be brought in or carried 

1 Las Cases, iv. 271. 



GOVERNOES OF THE PALACES. 159 

out without an order from him. When the Emperor was with 
the army or was travelling, the Grand Marshal provided his lodg- 
ing and that of his suite. Upon the first entry of the Emperor 
into a palace, after an absence of any length of time, he was 
received at the door b)^ the Grand Marshal, and was conducted 
by him to the apartment prepared for him. At ceremonious din- 
ners, and on state occasions, the Grand Marshal announced the 
meals, conducted their Majesties to their seats, and served the 
Emperor with wine during the repast. He caused the prefects 
of the palace to furnish him every six months an inventory of the 
porcelain, glass, linen and silver belonging to their Majesties. 
He presented to the Emperor, at his levee, the officers who had 
been appointed to places in the household, and received, unless 
Napoleon preferred to do so himself, their oaths of fidelity and 
allegiance. He was responsible for the exactitude of the post- 
office attached to each of the palaces. The Grand Marshal was 
lodged, served at a table of his own, and furnished with horses 
and vehicles, at the expense of the crown. 

GOVERNORS OP THE PALACES. 

There was but one Grand Marshal for all the imperial resi- 
dences, but there was a governor to each. The duty of this officer 
was, generally, the execution of the various details of which, in 
theory, the Grand Marshal was the supervisor, and for which he was 
in reality accountable, though he delegated all active interference. 
The governor made, personally, a round of inspection every night, 
and received constant notification of the progress of events from 
the sentinels, the warders, the servants and the gardeners. He 
received the pass-word from the Grand Marshal and gave it to 
those who required it. 

It was natural that the governor, following the example of the 
Grand Marshal, should seek to throw off his burden upon the 
shoulders of another. In order to meet this necessity, a lieu- 



160 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

tenant governor was appointed. This gentleman, in his turn, 
relieved himself of a certain portion of his duties by intrusting 
them to a functionary called the adjutant. That this individual 
also succeeded in transferring a share of his business to a subal- 
tern, the Code of Etiquette doth not affirm ; all that can be said 
is, that it is more than probable. 

THE PREFECTS OF THE PALACES. 

The prefect on duty — for he was relieved every week — per- 
sonally inspected once a day, the kitchen, cellars, pantries, store 
closets and warehouses. He counted the silver, and could call 
the servants by name. As the Emperor retired for the night, the 
prefect waited to learn the hour of breakfast for the morrow. At 
the family and unofficial dinners of their Majesties the prefect 
announced the meal, seated the persons invited, and notified the 
kitchen and the pantry that all was ready, 

CHAMBERLAINS. 

The service of the chamberlains included every thing con- 
nected with the honors and etiquette of the palace, the audiences, 
the prestation of oaths, the festivities, the invitations, the theat- 
rical and operatic representations given at the Tuileries and at 
St. Cloud, the visits of their Majesties to the theatres of Paris, 
the wardrobe and hbrary of the Emperor, the ushers and valets-de- 
chambre. The Grand Chamberlain controlled this whole depart- 
ment. At imperial banquets it was his duty to present to the 
Emperor, before and after eating, water to wash his hands. He 
presided at the designing and making of all presents to be given 
to crowned heads, princes and ambassadors, and which were to be 
paid for from the privy purse. 

One of the chamberlains filled the office of Master of the 
Wardrobe. His duty was to order and take charge of all the 



THE GEAND MASTER OF THE HORSE. 161 

objects composing his Majesty's toilet- — clothing, linen, lace, shoes, 
costumes, cordons, scarfs, and other decorations of the Legion 
of Honor, as well as all the jewelry belonging personally to 
the Emperor — such as did not form part of the crown jewels. 
He took the orders of the Emperor every morning upon his appa- 
rel ; and usually, in the absence of the Grand Chamberlain, as- 
sisted his Majesty in donning his coat, attached to his person 
the order or cordon desired, and handed him his sword, hat and 
gloves. On occasions of state, he placed the mantle upon the 
imperial shoulders. 

When their Majesties desired to employ the crown diamonds, 
the Grand Chamberlain, or Napoleon himself, gave a written order 
upon the Treasurer-general to the Master of the Wardrobe for 
those of the Emperor, and to the Lady of Honor for those of the 
Empress. The Master of the Wardrobe, and the Lady of Honor, 
upon receiving them, signed a receipt in the treasurer's register ; 
he, in turn, upon receiving them back again, discharged the bear- 
ers from responsibility by appending his signature to blanks held 
by them and prepared for the purpose. 

THE GRAND MASTER OF THE HORSE AND HIS OFFICERS. 

The Grand Master of the Horse held the control and surveil- 
lance of the stables, of the couriers, the pages, and the weapons 
of his Majesty : he was also superintendent of the stud of St. 
Cloud. He had the entire direction of everything relative to the 
journeys of the Emperor : he communicated to the persons invited 
on any occasion to accompany him, his Majesty's desires. 

The Grand Master of the Horse always a,ttended the Emperor 
when with the army. In the absence of the Constable, he carried 
the imperial sword. If the Emperor's horse were wounded or 
killed, he offered him his own. He remained, mounted, at the 
left of his Majesty, in order to be near the left stirrup. He 
lodged in the camp, within call of the Emperor. He presented 

21 



162 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

to Ms Majesty the pages, upon the attainment of their eighteenth 
year, and who were therefore quahfied to enter the army. He 
was always attended by a musket bearer, whose duty it was to keep 
in order, to load, and to discharge, if not used, the fire-arms of 
his Majesty. He was lodged at the expense of the crown, and 
used for his own service the horses and vehicles of the Emperor. 

At official dinners, he gave the Emperor his chair, and with- 
drew it at the close of the meal. During its progress, he stood 
at his Majesty's left. When the Emperor quitted the palace to 
mount his horse, the Grand Master preceded him, and assisted 
him into the saddle, presenting him the whip, the reins and the 
stirrup. He was responsible for the solidity of the vehicles, the 
intelligence and skill of the grooms, and the soundness and breed- 
ing of the horses. He superintended the education, the meals 
and the lodging of the pages. 

He was often replaced, in these various duties, by subordi- 
nate equerries, one or two of whom were always in attendance 
upon him, when personally present with the Emperor. If his 
Majesty let his whip or other article drop, it was picked up by 
the first equerry, who handed it to the Grand Equerry, who re- 
stored it to the Emperor. The first equerry, or the equerry on 
duty, received from the secretary of the palace, giving a receipt 
in exchange, the despatches to be forwarded by courier ; he was 
responsible for the strength of the seals and envelopes. He 
received also the incoming despatches — if brought by a courier — 
and gave them himself into the hands of his Majesty, in the day- 
time, and, during the night, to the aid-de-camp in the ante-cham- 
ber. He scrupulously examined the courier's way-biU, to make 
sure that he had delivered all that had been intrusted to him ; he 
also verified his time-table, and if he found him behindhand, 
sent him to the Grand Master of the Horse for reprimand or 
punishment. 



THE PAGES AND AIDS -DE-CAMP. 163 



THE PAGES. 

The duty of the pages — of whom there were thirty-six at the 
least, and sixty at the most, and who entered the service at the 
age of fourteen and quitted it at eighteen, for the army — was to 
wait upon their Majesties, to carry messages and to bring back 
the answers. At Paris, two always attended the Emperor in the 
palace : one followed him on horseback, whether he rode or 
drove. At St. Cloud, only one was in attendance, but another was 
always in readiness, at the HCtel des Pages, to replace him. At 
audiences and at mass, eight pages were usually in attendance ; 
and when the Emperor rode in his state carriage, six sat behind 
the coachman, and six more in the rumble. If the Emperor had 
not returned to the palace at nightfall, the pages on duty waited 
at the gate with white wax torches, and on his arrival conducted 
him to the ante-chamber, where they gave up their torches to the 
valets-de-chambre. The pages, besides carrying the messages of 
their Majesties, might be sent upon errands by the princes and 
princesses, the aids-de-camp, the chamberlains and the equerries. 
They were obliged in all cases to communicate the result of their 
mission to the person who had charged them with it. At the 
chase, the first page held the Emperor's carbine. At the himt, 
eight pages passed the muskets from those who loaded them to 
the Emperor, while a line of footmen passed them back from the 
Emperor to be loaded again. All game killed by his Majesty 
belonged of right to the first page : rank was determined by 
length of service. 

THE AIDS-DE-CAMP. 

The Emperor had twelve aids-de-camp in his service, princi- 
pally generals in the army. Their rank was determined, not by 
military grade, but by the date of their commission as aid. One 
of these ofiicers was always in attendance. He was obhged to 



164 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

have a horse constantly saddled, and a carriage constantly har- 
nessed. When the Emperor slept, the aid-de-camp who watched 
in the room preceding the bed-chamber, became the guardian of 
his person. A despatch, arriving at night, was brought to the 
aid-de-camp's door, which was kept carefully locked. He re- 
ceived the missive, again locked the door, and then knocked at 
that of his Majesty. On parade occasions and in military move- 
ments, the aids-de-camp marched in front of the Emperor ; the 
one on service for the day, but six paces in front, and behind his 
colleagues. In camp, the aids performed the entire duty which 
at the palace devolved upon the chamberlains. 

THE GRAND MASTER OF CEREMONIES. 

The duty of this officer was to draw up the plans and pro- 
grammes of the rites and festivities which their Majesties attended 
— such as the Coronation, the Reception of the members of the 
Legion of Honor, the Opening of the Legislative Session, the Flte 
of the Champ de Mars, &c. He fixed the time and place, assigned 
places to individuals and corporations, according to the rules of 
precedence or the pecuHar proprieties of the occasion. The pro- 
gramme became official upon the approval of his Majesty. The 
G-rand Master received personally the Emperor's orders during the 
progress of any ceremony. It was also his duty, at receptions 
and presentations, to introduce the ambassadors into the imperial 
presence. 

THE PALACE OF THE TITILEEIES. 

The residence of his Majesty was divided into three suites of 
rooms — the Grand or Festive Apartment, the Ordinary Apart- 
ment of the Emperor, and the Ordinary Apartment of the Em- 
press. 

The Grand Apartment consisted of a concert-room, a first and 



THE DIVISION OF THE PALACE — ME ALS . 165 

second parlor, the throne room, and the Emperor's room. The 
concert-room served as an ante-chamber and as a place of waiting 
for the pages. The two parlors were for the Grand Officers of 
their Majesties, the members of the Senate and the Council of 
State, the generals of division, archbishops and bishops. The 
throne-room was open to the princes and princesses of the impe- 
rial family and of the Empire, the ministers and the presidents 
of the Senate and Legislature. The Emperor's room was sacred 
to their Majesties, and no one, no matter what his rank, could 
enter it unless bidden to do so. A chamberlain was at hand to 
bear the Emperor's commands. 

The Emperor's Ordinary Apartment was divided into two 
suites — a superior and a private suite. The latter consisted of 
a study, an interior study, a topographical bureau and a bed- 
chamber. To enter the study was simply intrusive, but to enter 
the interior study was sacrilegious. The door was guarded by a 
personage styled the Gruardian of the Portfolio, who required a 
written order from the Emperor to allow any one to penetrate its 
hallowed and mysterious precincts. 

MEALS. 

On occasions of ceremonious dinnei's, the table was elevated 
upon a platform, and the two imperial chairs were placed under 
a canopy. The doors of the room were guarded by ushers. The 
Grand Master of Ceremonies had charge of the invitations, a list 
of which he received from their Majesties. He gave notice of the 
hour, the place of assembly, the arrangement of the tables and 
the rank of the guests, to the Grand Marshal of the Palace. 

When the Emperor was ready, he intimated the fact to the 
Grand Marshal, who transmitted the intelligence to the first pre- 
fect, who at once sent word to the pantry and the kitchen, from 
whence everything required for the first course was immediately 
brought. The plate of the Emperor was placed at the right of 



166 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

that of the Empress ; the Emperor's "nef," containing his napkin, 
and his "cadenas," containing his drinking-cup, were also placed 
at his right, those of the Empress at her left. These preparations 
being accomplished, the first prefect signified to the Grand Mar- 
shal to proceed to summon their Majesties. The following order 
was preserved in the line of march : 

The pages on duty ; an assistant master of ceremonies ; the 
prefects of the week ; the first prefect and a master of ceremo- 
nies ; the Grand Marshal of the Palace and the Grand Master of 
Ceremonies ; the Empress, her first equerry and her first cham- 
berlain ; the Emperor, with the Colonel-general on duty ; the 
Grand Chamberlain and the Grand Master of the Horse ; the 
Grand Almoner. 

When their Majesties arrived at their seats, the Grand Cham- 
berlain offered a finger-bowl to the Emperor, the first prefect 
ofiering one to the Empress ; the Grand Master of the Horse pre- 
sented the Emperor his chair, the first equerry performing a 
similar service for the Empress ; the Grand Marshal unlocking 
the Emperor's "nef," and the first chamberlain unlocking that of 
the Empress, supplied therefrom their Majesties with napkins. 
Upon the conclusion of these preliminaries, the Grand Almoner 
approached the table in front of the canopy, invoked the divine 
blessing upon the meal, and then withdrew. 

Servants in livery waited upon the guests, the grand func- 
tionaries and the pages serving their Majesties. When the 
Emperor desired to drink, the first prefect poured out the wine 
and water, handed the goblet to the Grand Marshal, who trans- 
mitted it to his Majesty, who himself conveyed it to his lips. 
When the Empress desired to drink, the first equerry mixed and 
the second prefect handed. The stewards carved, and the pages 
carried the plates. A prefect poured out the Emperor's coffee, a 
page presented it upon a golden platter to the Grand Chamber- 
lain, who passed it on to the Emperor ; the first chamberlain 
rendering himself similarly useful to the Empress. After the 



THE IMPERIAL STATE DINNERS. 167 

repast, finger-bowls were brought to the Emperor by the Grand 
Chamberlain, to the Empress by the first chamberlain ; the Grand 
Master of the Horse drew back the Emperor's chair, the first 
equerry that of the Empress : the imperial napkins were received 
into the hands of the Grand Marshal and first prefect. 

On ordinary and intimate occasions, their Majesties took their 
meals in their private apartments ; these were as remarkable for 
their absence of etiquette, as the more formal festivities were for 
the excess of punctilio and the fantastic prescriptions of artificial 
decorum. Dinner was always served at six, and their Majesties 
dined alone, except on Sundays, when the members of the impe- 
rial family were admitted. None of them were allowed arm- 
chairs but Napoleon's mother ; the royal brothers and sisters sat 
upon simple chairs. Dinner rarely lasted over eighteen minutes, 
and comprised one course and dessert : the Empress poured out 
the Emperor's coffee — a reminiscence of the Consulate. 

The Grand Convert, or the public state dinners of the impe- 
rial family, a prominent feature of the Code, was instituted with 
some hesitation, and ISTapoleon afterwards regretted it, as a cere- 
mony not in harmony with the dignity of modern manners. "It 
is very well," he said, " to look at the sovereign at church, or at 
the theatre, or the promenade ; but to see him eat, is ridiculous 
for the eater and the spectator. Royalty, when it has become 
a magistracy, should only show itself to the public in the garb 
and the exercise of office, and free from the infirmities and the 
needs of humanity." 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The Members of Napoleon's Imperial Household — The Almoners; Chamberlains; Marshals; 
Masters of the Horse and Hounds ; Intendants ; Physicians ; Surgeons — The Subordinate 
SerTJce — Napoleon's Fondness for Etiquette — Its Consequences. 

N the preceding chapter we described the functions and attri- 
butes of the several officers of the imperial household. In 
the present chapter we give the names of each of the incumbents 
of these various places, as they were originally appointed by the 
Emperor, commencing with his Majesty's Chapel. 



Grand Almoner : " His Imperial Highness Cardinal Fesch, 
Archbishop of Lyons, half brother of Napoleon's mother. This 
oflS.ce was asked for by Prince Ferdinand de Rohan, the repre- 
sentative of a family which had held it for a century under the 
monarchy. Napoleon preferred to place his uncle at the head of 
the French clergy, and made Prince Ferdinand first almoner to 
the Empress. The annual salary attached to the former office 
was 25,000 francs. 

First Almoner : M. Charrier de la Roche, Bishop of Yer- 
saiUes, and the largest wholesale wine-dealer in the department. 
Salary, 18,000 francs. 

Almoners in Ordinary: The Abb^s Maurice de Broglie and 
de Pradt. The latter was the most notorious renegade of the im- 



THE OHAMBEKLAINS AND MAESHALS. 169 

perial aunals. When appointed, he said that he was to be almoner 
to the god Mars ; and upon Napoleon's fall, he called him Jupiter 
Scapin, or Jupiter Buffoon. Salaries, 15,000 francs. 

Chaplains : MM. Fournier and Lacotte. Salaries, 12,500 
francs. 

Master of Ceremonies of the Chapel : M. de Sambucy. 
Salary, 15,000 francs. 

Composer of Music for the Chapel : M. Lesueur. Salary, 
12,500 francs. 

Tenor Singer : Crescentini. Salary, 50,000 francs. Eleven 
others, with proportionate salaries. 

chamberlains. 

GrRAND Chamberlain : Talleyrand, Minister of Foreign Affairs. 
Salary, 200,000 francs. 

First Chamberlain : M. de Eemusat, the same who held a 
prominent situation in Bonaparte's consular household. Salary, 
30,000 francs. 

Chamberlains in Ordinary : At first six, then fourteen, then 
fifty in number. Salaries, 25,000 francs. 

Librarians : Denina and Rippaut. Salaries, 7,500 francs. 

Miniature Painter : Isabey. This renowned artist executed 
the portraits of all the personages inhabiting the imperial palaces. 
He worked with great rapidity, throwing off three dozen minia- 
tures in a week. 

marshals. 

Grand Marshal op the Palace : Duroc. Salary, 75,000 
francs. 

Deputy Marshals : Colonels Reynaud and Clement, Captain 
Segur, and Lieutenant Tascher, cousin of the Empress. The duties 
of these gentlemen confined them principally to the courtyard 
of the palace. Salaries, 12,500 francs. 

22 



I'^'O THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Governors of the Palaces : Bight in number, each with a 
salary of 25,000 francs. 

Prefects of the Palace : Three in number — MM. de Lupay, 
de Bausset and de St. Didier. Salaries, 15,000 francs. 

Private Secretary : At one period, Clarke : at another, 
Bourrienne ; at another, Meneval. Salary, 25,000 francs. 

Under Secretaries : Pour in number. Salaries, 12,500 francs. 

masters of the horse. 

- Grand Master : M. de Caulaincourt. Salary, 50,000 francs. 

Equerry Cavalcadours : Colonels Durosnel, Defrance, Le- 
febvre, Vatier. Salaries, 25,000 francs. 

Governor of the Pages : Gen. Gardanne, a stern, impas- 
sible and impartial Mentor, though the Parisians thought proper 
to make a pun upon his name, and to call him " Garde Snes," or 
Keeper of the Donkeys. Salary, 25,000 francs. 

Sub-Governors of the Pages : Abbe Gandon, almoner, and 
Colonel d'Assigny. Salaries, 12,500 francs. 

Instructors of the Pages : Ten in number, with a salary 
of 3,000 francs each. 

Pages : Thirty-six in number at the outset, and lastly sixty. 
Salaries, 2,000 francs each. 

MASTERS of THE HOUNDS. 

Grand Master : Alexandre Berthier, Minister of War. Ber- 
thier was passionately fond of hunting, and disliked extremely to 
attend his Majesty to the forests, where the etiquette acted as a 
restraint upon huntsmen, horses and hounds. He one day told 
Napoleon that the weather was unpropitious, and that the dogs 
would be unable to keep the scent. The hunt was therefore post- 
poned, and Berthier went on a private excursion for deer at Gros- 
Bois. The day was unusually fine, and the scent of the pack 
exquisitely keen. Napoleon laughed at the mystification, but was 



CEREMONIAL AND INTENDANCE. 171 

too fond of Berthier to reprimand him. However, lie never again 
consulted him in regard to weather suitable for sporting. Salary, 
75,000 francs. 

Captain of the Hunt : M. d'Hannecourt, an excellent hunts- 
man ; he lived in the forests over which it was his mission to 
preside. Salary, 20,000 francs. 

Deputy Masters of the Hounds : Twelve in number, with a 
salary of 15,000 francs each. The musket-bearer, M. Boterne, 
had but one eye. This circumstance, apparently a deficiency, 
was said by the wits to be an advantage, as he dispensed with the 
preliminary of shutting one eye, on taking aim. 

ceremonial. 

Grand Master of Ceremonies : M. de S6gur, a cosmopolite, 
hnguist and courtier. He did not consider himself qualified for 
the office, but said that he should be glad to acquire some know- 
ledge of etiquette. He remarked that his case was much like 
that of the king's new librarian, whose uncle observed to him, on 
his nomination, "Now, nephew, you will have a fine opportunity 
to learn to read!" Salary, 75,000 francs. 

Masters of Ceremonies and Introducers of the Ambassa- 
dors : MM. de Salmatoris and de Cramayel. Salaries, 25,000 
francs. 

Assistant Masters : MM. d'Aignan and Dargainaratz. Sa- 
laries, 20,000 francs. 

A Captain of the Heralds, and four heralds. 

INTENDANCE. 

Intbndant-General of THE HOUSEHOLD : M. Claret de Fleu- 
rieu, a severe accountant, a zealous administrator and a discreet 
adviser. Blisa Bonaparte, in speaking of his excessive caution, 
remarked, "So prudent is he, that it is with visible constraint. 



172 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

and evident fright at his own temerity, that he ventures to ask of 
an intimate friend, ' My dear sir, how do you do ?' " Salary, 
50,000 francs. 

First Painter : Louis David. 

Architects : Fontaine, attached to the Louvre and the Tuile- 
ries ; Kaymond, to the Chateaux of St. Cloud and Meudon ; 
Trepzat, to the palace of Versailles, the two Trianons and Ram- 
bouillet. Salaries, 25,000 francs. 



MEDICAL SERVICE. 

First Physician : Corvisart. Salary, 50,000 francs. Physi- 
cian in ordinary, Halle. Six physicians attached to the palace. 

First Surgeon : Boyer. Salary, 25,000 francs. Surgeon in 
ordinary, Yvan. Six surgeons attached to the palace. 

First Apothecary : Salary, 7,500 francs. Two apothecaries 
in ordinary ; an oculist ; M. Bousquet, dentist. 

TREASURY OF THE CROWN. 

Treasurer : M. Estfeve, of whose of&ce under the Consulate, 
and of whose singular fate, we have already spoken. He ably 
seconded the Emperor in his attempts to prevent depredations 
and useless expenditure. Salary, 50,000 francs. 

Administrator of the Crown Forests : M. Perrache-Fran- 
queville. Salary, 25,000 francs. 

Secretary of State for the Imperial Family : Regnault de 
St. Jean d'Angely. Salary, 75,000. 

Notary : M. Raguideau. 

subordinate service. 

Five Valets-de-Chambre : Of whom the first was Constant 
— ^Louis Constant Wairy. His service was zealous and intelli- 



NAPOLEON'S LOVE OF ETIQUETTE. 173 

gent, and above all, disinterested, for lie left Napoleon, after fif- 
teen years' uninterrupted devotion, as poor as when he entered 
the palace. He abandoned him, however, upon his abdication, 
and wrote six volumes of imperial memoirs. 

Four Ushers ; Three Stewards ; Four Outriders ; Twelve 
Footmen. 

One Mameluke : Roustan, the slave of the sheik Al-Bekey, 
and brought by Bonaparte from Egypt, and attached to his ser- 
vice. He approached the imperial person more intimately than 
any other domestic of the household. He, too, deserted Napo- 
leon upon his fall. 

Three Coachmen : One of whom, Germain, but always called 
Caesar by Napoleon, on account of the bravery he displayed in 
Egypt, was the favorite. It was he who drove Bonaparte on the 
night of the explosion of the Infernal Machine of the Rue Ste. 
Nicaise, and to his address on that occasion was due, in some 
degree, the escape of the First Consul. Napoleon said at St. 
Helena that Cffisar was intoxicated on the evening in question, 
and that he took the explosion for a military salute. In this Cjb- 
sar was calumniated and Napoleon misinformed. When the latter 
sallied forth at night, incognito, Caesar was always required to be 
upon the box, and, on these occasions, without livery. 

Such is a rapid view of the household established in 1804, 
which was subsequently extended in number and augmented in 
splendor. It was Napoleon's undue love of etiquette and punc- 
tilio which rendered him accessible to many of the influences 
which contributed to his downfall. When Consul, he had forbid- 
den his former equals and companions to address him with the 
"thee " and "thou " of intimacy ; and now, as Emperor, he still fur- 
ther stiffened the language of friendship and the intercourse even 
of kindred, by a pervading leaven of formality and reserve. Well- 
wishers no longer dared to speak the truth, for Napoleon now 
preferred the tongues that dripped incense. Closing his ears and 
his heart to the language of disinterested advisers, he condemned 



174 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

himself to listen only to the poisoned flatteries of those who 
secretly and insidiously plotted his ruin. The Count de Nar- 
bonne, former minister of Louis XVI., was one day commissioned 
to give an unimportant despatch to Napoleon. He knelt upon 
one knee, and presented the missive upon the crown of his hat. 
" Upon my word, what is all this ?" asked Napoleon. "This is the 
way we did under Louis XVI.," returned the count. "Ah! 
very well, very well," said the Emperor, evidently gratified by 
the revival of the usage. In time, this fancy for the honors and 
traditions of legitimacy, coupled with the desire of founding a 
dynasty and transmitting his name, led him to seek an alliance 
with a house of royal lineage. This step, involving the divorce 
from Josephine, was the first of a series of errors conducting at 
last to Elba and. Water loo. 

The desire of continuing to exercise an influence, through 
posterity, seems to be instinctive in the human heart, and this is 
generally powerful in proportion to the energy and achievements 
of ambition. It is this sentiment which constructs a throne and 
encircles it with a peerage ; it is this which induces, in the pos- 
sessors of wealth, the founding of families and the perpetuation 
of estates. That Napoleon should have fallen in a measure 
through such temptations, may deprive him of a portion of our 
worship as a hero, while it brings him within the circle of com- 
mon sympathies as a man. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

The Household of the Empress Josephine— Prince Ferdinand de Eohan— General Nansouty — 
The Duchess d'AiguiUon — Madame de Larochefoucauld — Madame de Lavalette — Madame 
Gazani— M'lle Avrillon— Georgette Ducrest — The Pages, Ushers, Valets, Footmen— Jose- 
phine's Extravagance and consequent Quarrels with Napoleon— Talleyrand and Bourrienue 
the Mediators between them — The Beauties of the Court — The Household of Madame Mere. 

THE household of the Empress Josephine, as it was organized 
in 1804, consisted of the following individuals, filling the 
various situations created by the code of etiquette : 

First Almoner : Prince Ferdinand de Rohan, formerly arch- 
bishop and Prince de Cambray ; the heir of one of the most illus- 
trious houses in France. Salary, 25,000 francs. 

First Master of the Horse : Count and Senator d'Harville. 
This was the highest officer in the household. He offered the Em- 
press his hand in preference to any other person ; he was present 
at all the audiences given by her, and stood behind her chair. 
His duty, generally, towards her Majesty was equivalent to that 
of the Grand Master of the Horse towards the Emperor. Salary, 
25,000 francs. 

First Chamberlain : G-eneral Nansouty, one of the best ca- 
valry officers of the epoch. Salary, 35,000 francs. 

Introducer of the Ambassadors : M. de Beaumont. Salary, 
20,000 francs. 

Four Chamberlains in Ordinary : Salaries, 18,000 francs. 

Intend ANT of the Household : M. Hainguerlot. 

Lady of Honor : Countess Chastule de Larochefoucauld. When 
Josephine was confined during the Terror, at the prison of the 



176 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Carmes, she shared her cell, as has been stated, with Madame Tal- 
lien and the Duchess d'Aiguillon. Reflecting on the predictions 
of Euphemie David, at Martinique, and of M'Ue Lenormand, at 
Paris, she said, on the eve of the day fixed for her execution, 
"After all, I have no need for alarm, for I shall yet he Queen of 
France." " Why do you not appoint your household, then?" said 
Madame d'Aiguillon, smiling through her tears. "True, I had 
not thought of it," returned Josephine. " You, to begin, shall be 
lady of honor." Upon the proclamation of the Empire, Josephine 
attempted to redeem her promise, but, in the meantime, the 
duchess, having been judicially separated from the Duke d'AiguU- 
lon, had become the Countess Louis de Girardin, and Napoleon 
refused to admit a divorced lady to court. He subsequently 
miade the countess, however, lady of honor to his sister-in-law, 
Madame Joseph Bonaparte, Queen of Naples. 

Madame de Larochefoucauld, lady of honor to the Empress, 
was a personage of stern and antique manners, but of kre- 
proachable life. She accepted the office at Josephine's earnest 
soUcitation. She proved in the sequel to be heartless and un- 
grateful, however, for upon the divorce of Josephine, she applied 
to the Emperor for his authorization to continue her service in 
the same capacity in the household of Marie Louise. Napoleon 
replied by a direct refusal, and Madame de Larochefoucauld fell 
into disgrace. Salary, 20,000 francs. 

TiEEWOMAN : Madame de Lavalette — Emihe de Beauharnais — 
niece of the Empress. In 1815, this lady earned a European 
reputation by her successful ruse to save her husband from death, 
sentence having been pronounced upon him for open aid given to 
Napoleon against the Bourbons. She gaiaed access to him in prison, 
and disguising him in her own apparel, enabled him to escape. 
The trick was discovered in less than five minutes, and the barriers 
of Paris were immediately closed. Lavalette, however, made good 
his flight to Bavai'ia. His condemnation was subsequently an- 
nulled, and he was restored to his country and his wife. 



MADAME GAZANI. 177 

Ladies of the Palace : At first twelve in number, tlie greater 
part of whom have been mentioned under the Consulate ; these 
were afterwards increased to twenty-four. The salary of each was 
16,000 francs. 

Reader : Madame Gazani. This beautiful and celebrated 
person was a native of Genoa, and the daughter of a danseuse. 
Napoleon saw her during one of his Italian campaigns, and in- 
duced her to follow him to Paris. She was made reader to the 
Empress ; her husband was given a situation as receiver-general. 
Her liaison with Napoleon was a brief one ; he was afraid of be- 
coming subject to her influence, and commanded Josephine to send 
her home to Italy. " No," said the Empress, " she shall stay with 
me. It would be wrong to drive to despair a woman whom you 
have led into error. We will weep together ; she will understand 
me." Josephine already had a presentiment of the lot that was in 
store for her. From this moment the abandoned wife and the dis- 
carded favorite lived in close and constant intimacy. Madame 
Gazani never read to Josephine on account of her Italian accent. 

During the period of her supremacy, Madame Gazani held a 
position equal to that of the ladies of the palace. This was con- 
trary to etiquette, and annoyed Madame de Larochefoucauld ; 
but Napoleon insisted, and it was useless to contest his will. In 
person, Madame Gazani was tall and slight ; in complexion, a bru- 
nette, with a rare perfection and delicacy of feature ; her eyes 
expressed what she thought, as she was speaking, and told what 
she heard, as she listened. 

Two First Ladies in Waiting : Madame Marco de St. Hi- 
laire, who had the charge of Josephine's jewels and cashmeres ; 
and Madame Roy. 

Four Chambermaids : Of whom M'Ue Avrillon was decidedly 
the favorite. This young woman subsequently wrote a volume 
of tattle upon Josephine and her court. It was said that but 
three words in the manuscript, as she prepared it, were correctly 
spelled, Napoleon being in every instance written NapouUion. 

23 



178 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Four Ladies to Announce : One of whom, Georgette Ducrest, 
niece of Madame de Genlis, and still living, has written an inter- 
esting volume of memoirs of JosejDhine. 

Six Pages were constantly in attendance upon the Empress. 
When she left her apartment, one walked before her, and another 
- — the elder of the two — carried her train. 

Two First Valets-de-Chambre : Freyre and Douville, The 
daughter of Douville married Roustan, Napoleon's Mameluke. 
The latter, when reproached by the public for not following his 
master to St. Helena, pleaded his happiness at home as a sulficient 
motive for remaining there. Freyre is still alive, and serves a 
German prince. He visits France once a year to attend the mass 
at Rueil, near Paris, for the repose of Josephine's soul. 

Pour Yalets-de-Chambre in Ordinary ; four Ushers ; eight 
Footmen ; three Coachmen ; of whomDulacwas the favorite and 
the confidant ; an Errand-runner, by the name of Benoist. 

The needs of her Majesty increasing from time to time with 
those of Napoleon, the number of places in her household was 
constantly multiplied. Her retinue was doubled between 1804 
and the divorce ; and that of Marie Louise commenced more nu- 
merously than Josephine's ended. 

There were certain points of difference in the characters of 
Napoleon and Josephine, which unfitted them in some degree to 
occupy the same throne. He, who restored etiquette, was fond of 
it ; while she found its minute prescriptions irksome and harassing. 
While he was strict in his accounts with tradesmen, and could 
not tolerate waste or fraud, she was perfectly indifferent to price 
and very careless about payment. This latter defect seriously 
embittered her relations with Napoleon. Her prodigal expendi- 
tures — a reminiscence of her life under the Directory — often drew 
reproach from him. Early in the Consulate, Talleyrand and 
Bourrienne were forced to become the- mediators between them, 
in the very delicate matter of the liquidation of Josephhie's debts. 
The complaints of her creditors came to be so loud that Bonaparte 



JOSEPHINE'S EXTRAVAGANCE. 179 

felt the immediate necessity of putting an end to them. Talley- 
rand opened the negotiation, and upon his departure, late one 
evening, Bonaparte said to Bourrienne : " Bourrienne, Talleyrand 
has been speaking to me of the debts of my wife ; ask her for 
the exact amount of her indebtedness. Let her confess the whole, 
and let her beware of such extravagance in future. Let me see 
the bills of every one of this pack of thieves." 

Bourrienne applied to Josephine for a statement of what she 
owed ; she refused to confess more than the half, and implored 
Bourrienne to be content with this partial avowal. He replied : 
" Madame, I must not conceal from you the discontent of the First 
Consul ; he beHeves you owe a considerable sum, and he is dis- 
posed to pay it. You will be bitterly upbraided, and will doubt- 
less have a violent scene with him ; but the scene will be no less 
violent for the sum you propose to acknowledge than for the 
whole amount. If you conceal a portion, the murmurs of your 
creditors will speedily recommence, and Bonaparte wiU be more 
angry than before. Take my word for it, and confess the whole ; 
the result will be the same in any case, and you will hear but once 
the reproaches which othei-wise you must hear twice." 

Josephine positively refused to follow the counsel other adviser, 
and would only surrender accounts to the value of 600,000 francs, 
though she owed a million and a cj^uarter. Bonaparte was indig- 
nant and hurt at the enormity even of this sum, though he placed 
the necessary amount at once at Bourrienne's disposal, directing 
him to withhold the whole from any creditor who would not abate 
a portion. Bourrienne examined the bills. He found that every 
tradesman had doubled his usual prices, in view of Josephine's 
carelessness, and in the fear of being compelled to wait. He found 
that the milliner had furnished her with thirty-eight bonnets in 
one month, many of them at the price of 1,800 francs, each. 
Nearly all of these gentry agreed to take half their first demands, 
and to give a receipt in full ; one, who had claimed 80,000 francs, 
consented to accept 35,000 francs, and boasted of his large profits, 



180 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

even then. Bourrienne was fortunate and adroit enough to liqui- 
date the million and a quarter with the check for 600,000 francs. 
It is worth mentioning, that the funds with which this domestic 
quarrel was settled were derived from the Senate of Hamburg, 
which was compelled to pay into the private purse of Bonaparte 
four millions and a half francs, in apology for its conduct towards 
JSFapper Tandy and Blackwell — Irish rebels, though French offi- 
cers.^ 

" Josephine was excessively extravagant," said ISTapoleon at 
St. Helena, " and possessed in an inordinate degree the reckless- 
ness in expense which is natural to Creoles. It was out of the 
question to settle her accounts ; she was always in debt, and was 
continually in trouble when pay-day arrived. She often sent 
word to shopkeepers to keep back the half of her indebtedness. 
I was not secure, even in Elba, from old bills of Josephine's, 
which swooped down upon me from every part of Italy." ^ 

On one occasion Napoleon said to Josephine, "I desire that 
you will be dazzling in jewelry and richly dressed ; do you hear ?" 
" Yes," she replied ; " but then you will find fault with the bills, 
and fall into a passion, and erase my audit in the margin, ' good for 
payment.' " " Certainly, my love, I sometimes cancel your audits, 
for you are occasionally so imposed upon that I cannot take it 
upon my conscience to sanction the abuse ; but it is not, on that 
account, inconsistent in me to recommend you to be magnificent 
on occasions of parade. One interest must be weighed against the 
other, and I hold the balance equitably, though strictly."* 

No period of modern French history has been more cele- 
brated for the beauty of its ladies than the Empire. Josephine 
moved and lived in the midst of rare constellations of youth and 
loveliness. Nature had been prodigal in the dispensation of per- 
sonal attractions, and Napoleon, susceptible to everything which 
charmed the vision and captivated the senses, was zealous in sur- 
rounding his throne as well with fair women as with brave men. 

1 Bout. iv. 29. "- lias Cases, ii. 804. ^ d'Abr. i. 580. 



THE LADIES OF THE COURT. 181 

Foremost among the belles was Madame Regnault de St. Jean 
d'Angely, whose style of face and feature was said to recall the 
Antique Niobe, and of whose life we shall have occasion to speak 
9,t a subsequent period. 

Then followed Madame Maret, afterwards Duchess de Bas- 
sano, whose sweet expression of countenance and elegant man- 
ners made a powerful impression upon Napoleon. She was one 
of the few women who repelled his advances ; "her heart must 
have been pre-engaged," said an eye-witness of the intrigue, 
"for neither reason nor virtue would otherwise have been proof 
against such resistless fascinations :" 

Madame Savary, afterwards Duchess de Rovigo, whose want 
of taste in dress somewhat marred her undoubted beauty : 

Madame Lannes, afterwards Duchess de Montebello, said to re- 
semble the most exquisite of Raphael's or Correggio's Madonnas : 

Madame de Canisy, whose perfect regularity of feature, inde- 
scribable charm of expression, and glossy silken hair obtained her 
the title of the "Muse of the Court :" 

Madame de Chevreuse, "the fair one with golden locks," of 
whose exile for a smart speech we shall speak at the proper 
moment : 

Madame Durosnel, " whose blue eyes were overhung by long 
and glossy lashes : whose fascinating smile discovered a set of the 
finest teeth in the world, and whose general elegance of manner 
indicated a cultivated mind :" 

Madame Visconti, still remarkably beautiful at fifty years of 
age, and passionately loved by Marshal Berthier. The latter 
wished her to obtain a divorce from her husband, that he might 
marry her himself Napoleon forbade the execution of this plan, 
and compelled Berthier to wed a very plain princess of Bava- 
ria. Three weeks after the wedding, M. Visconti died. " What 
a pity it is too late !" wept the doubly bereaved widow. Upon 
her death, she left her jewels to Madame Berthier, then Princess 
de Wagram : 



182 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Madame, and afterwards Princess, Talleyrand, whose dazzling 
whiteness of skin rendered her an object of universal admiration. 
This lady's acknowledged liaison with Talleyrand — her name was 
Grandt at the time — offended Napoleon, and he resolved to put 
an end to so grievous a scandal in his immediate intimacy. He 
therefore informed his Minister for Foreign Affairs that his con- 
nection with Madame Grandt must be rendered legitimate by 
marriage. In the existing state of things this was impossible, as 
Talleyrand, in his quality of Bishop of Autun, was compelled to 
remain in celibacy. The church, which forbade the marriage of a 
priest, permitted him, it would seem, to maintain an illicit con- 
nection. Application was made to the pope to restore Talleyrand 
to secular life. The papal authorization was accorded, and 
Madame Grandt became the Princess of Talleyrand-Perigord : 
she was presented once, and but once, at court under this title. 

The lady thus elevated and thus rehabilitated, was remarkably 
beautiful, but uneducated and devoid of intelligence. Talleyrand 
was asked how he could converse with a woman so illiterate. 
" She rests me," he replied, and in three words drew her charac- 
ter. She once spoke of the four corners of an octagonal room ; 
this speech of a modern princess delighted the antiques of the 
faubourg St. Germain. Denon having published his work upon 
Egypt, and having been invited by Talleyrand to dinner, the 
prince begged his wife to read the book, that she might be able 
to converse upon it with the author. She promised to do so, and 
on the occasion in question, expressed to Denon her pleasure in 
reading his descriptions of an unknown but interesting country. 
" But why did you introduce that excellent creature, Friday, so 
late? He should have come earlier in the book, and I know other 
persons who are of the same opinion." Poor Denon was terribly 
disconcerted, for he saw that the hostess took him for the author 
of Robinson Crusoe, which she had read by mistake. The faubourg 
St. Germain laughed again, but no more heartily than Tallej^rand 
himself, who told the anecdote often and with infinite zest. 



THE LADIES OF THE COUKT. 183 

Among the ladies intimate at the palace were Madame Du- 
chatel, who on one occasion expressed such earnest admiration of 
a diamond crest sent to the Emperor by the Sultan, that Napo- 
leon, breaking it in two, begged her to accept the larger half : 

Madame BasterrSche, a niece of Cambaceres, and whose 
maiden name was Rose de Mont-Ferrier. " No pen," we are told, 
' ' could faithfully portray her beauty. Her profile was superb, her 
figure sj'lph-like, and she possessed a complexion of which no com- 
parison can give any idea. It breathed an animation and warmth 
of coloring which reminded one of the flower whose name she 
bore ; her skin combined the delicate tints of the rose with the 
velvet of the peach." She married, at the age of eighteen, the 
most frightful and most repulsive man in France, a millionaire 
of Bayonne. Napoleon never forgave Cambaceres for consenting 
to it. " It is Beauty and the Beast realized," he said. 

To these we may add Madame de Brocq, whose sentimental 
beauty obtained for her the title of the Statue of Melancholy. 

These were all ladies either attached to the court, or admitted 
to it through official position or family connections. Several for- 
eign princesses frequented the palace at this period : Mesdames 
Czartoriska, de HohenzoUern, de Rohan and de Courlande. The 
incomparable Princess Borgh^se — Pauline Bonaparte — graced 
the scene with her lovely face and admirable diamonds. Then in 
financial circles was Madame R6camier — not yet exiled — and Ma- 
dame Simon, lately M'Ue Lange, actress of the Comedie Fran- 
^aise, and now the wife of a banker who had begun life as a 
wheelwright. Madame Simon had but lately been made notorious 
by a vengeance of Girodet, the artist. He had j)ainted her por- 
trait, but her husband, not satisfied with the likeness, refused to 
pay for it. Girodet immediately changed the accessories of the 
picture, making Madame Simon a recumbent Danae, extending 
her arms to catch a shower of gold. A bloated turkey and a 
swollen frog gazed at her in admiration. The resemblance, which 
had not struck M. Simon, was sufficiently marked to enable the 



184 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

public, at the Annual Gallery, to recognize its late favorite, and 
the mortified husband hastened to withdraw the caricature by pay- 
ing the price of the original. When Napoleon first saw Madame 
Simon at the Tuileries, some years subsequent to this, he was 
attracted by her beauty, and said to her, smiling, " And who are 
you, madame?" "I am Madame Simon, sire." "Oh, yes," re- 
turned Napoleon, "I remember." And, laughing heartily, he 
passed on to other guests. 

Such were the most conspicuous beauties admitted either to 
the intimacy or to the presence of Josephine. The households 
of Napoleon's sisters included several ladies whose appearance 
entitles them to notice ; they will be described in connection 
with the princesses themselves. The household of Napoleon's 
mother was formed somewhat later, upon her recall from Rome, 
whither she had retired upon Lucien's quarrel with Napoleon. In 
1806, she was established in a position which became the Em- 
press Dowager. She had 600,000 francs a year, one fifth of which 
she spent in the salaries of her household. She was, at this period, 
about fifty-four years of age, and still retained much of the beauty 
of her youth. She was a little over five feet in height ; her form 
was erect, and her carriage firm. Her eyes were small, black and 
piercing ; her smile was winning, and her expression haughty 
yet intelligent. Her teeth, even at this advanced age, were still 
perfect ; her feet were remarkably small ; her right hand pre- 
sented a conspicuous defect ; the forefinger did not bend, on account 
of an unsuccessful surgical operation. She dressed with taste and 
elegance, and possessed, in a marked degree, the faculty of suiting 
her costume to her age, or to the requirements of occasion. She 
spoke, at best, but broken French, and never escaped the embar- 
rassment which beset her from her conscious want of fluency in 
speech. 

She possessed no influence with her imperial son, and was con- 
sequently left in isolation by the quick scented courtiers and 
myrmidons of the palace. The ministers paid her no attention, 



HOUSEHOLD OF MADAME MfiRE. 185 

aud generally she received only such formal marks of considera- 
tion as were absolutely indispensable. Upon her accession to the 
title of Imperial Highness, she took Lucien's hotel in the Rue St. 
Dominique, which was already luxuriously furnished. Her house- 
hold consisted of a lady of honor, a reader, and four ladies com- 
panions ; two chamberlains, a master of the horse, two equerries 
in ordinary, an almoner, and a secretary. 

Madame de Fontanges was the lady of honor ; she is described 
as a handsome, inoffensive and listless young Creole, whom Napo- 
leon had made a baroness in order to qualify her for the place. 
He had mistaken her for the Marquise de Fontanges, a much more 
efficient and suitable person. 

The reader was M'Ue Delaunay, a young lady of cultivated 
mind and varied accomplishments. She was a finished musician 
and an admirable portrait painter. Madame M^re — this was the 
title bestowed on the Emperor's mother — gave numerous minia- 
tures of herself as presents, and these were all executed by M'Ue 
Delaunay. 

The four ladies companions were Madame la Marechale Soult, 
Madame de Fleurieu, whose husband had been Minister of Ma- 
rine under Louis XVI., Madame de St Pern, and Madame Junot. 
Madame Soult was fat and pretentious, and one of the worst 
dressers at the court. Madame de Fleurieu was plain and for- 
mal, though chatty and companionable : "a spout of lukewarm 
water, always open and always running." She obtained her 
situation by convincing Napoleon that she was an authority upon 
etiquette. Madame de St. Pern, a Corsican by birth, and un- 
happy in her domestic relations, delighted the household by her 
amiability, and won all who saw her by her gentleness and resig- 
nation. Madame Junot's story has been already told. In case 
of the illness of any one of these ladies, a supplementary atten- 
dant, or as they themselves called her, their supernumerary, was 
ready in the person of Madame Dupuis, " an indolent and weari- 
some Creole." 

24 



186 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

Of tlie gentlemen belonging to the household of Madame 
Mbre, there is little to say. M. Decazes, the secretary, was so 
fragrant and delightful, that he 'obtained, in time, the name of 
the sweet ^ea of the court. M. de Brissac, one of the chamber- 
lains, had a wife who was exceedingly deaf. Before being pre- 
sented to the Emperor, therefore, she prepared answers to the 
questions which Napoleon was in the habit of asking. The sove- 
reign unwittingly changed the usual order of his inquiries, and 
said, " How many children have you?" out of its turn. " Fifty- 
two, sire !" was the reply, made in j)erfect confidence, and re- 
ceived in amazement by all who heard it. She had been in love 
with her husband in early life, and he had sworn fidelity to her, 
though he soon after married another woman. "Then how did 
you become his wife?" she was one day asked. "Oh, I waited 
patiently till the other died," was the triumphant and heroic 
answer.^ 

Some years later, Madame de St. Pern was succeeded by Ma- 
dame de Bressieux, who in her youth had been M'Ue du Colom- 
bier, ISTapoleon's first love. We shall have occasion to speak of 
this lady more in detail, at a subsequent period. 

1 d'Abr. ii. passim. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Pauline Bonaparte — Her early Loves — Her Marriage with General Leclerc— The Expedition to St. 
Domingo— The Widow's Weeds— Don Camillo Borglilse — Extraordinary Scone at St. Cloud 
— The Statue of Venus Victorious — Pauline's Household at Neuilly— Her Receptions — Her 
Sedan Chair— Her Taste in Dress— M. Jules de Canouville— Pauline's Impertinence to Marie 
Louise — Her Banishment— Her Visit to Napoleon at Elba — Her Appeal to Lord Liverpool — 
Her Death at Florence. 



M- 



ARIE-PAULII^B-BONAPARTB, the second sister of Na- 
poleon, and the most beautiful, wayward, fashionable and 
dissolute of princesses, was born at Ajaccio, in 1780. Owing to 
the confusion of the times, her education was superficial and 
incomplete. At the age of thirteen, she was compelled to fly 
from home with her mother ; and with the family lived in exile 
for many months at Marseilles, upon a fund granted by the Con- 
vention to Corsican refugees. Her beauty, which was already 
dazzling — ^for Pauline was forward for her age — attracted the 
notice and won the heart of Louis Stanislas Preron, the agent of 
the Terror at Marseilles, and the willing executor of the sangui- 
naiy decrees of the Convention. Pauline reciprocated his pas- 
sion, and upon the fall of Robespierre, their union was agreed 
upon. The correspondence of Pauline with Preron, which was 
pubHshed in Paris about the year 1830,^ indicates a precocity of 
sentiment and a depth of passion astonishing in a girl of fifteen 
years. The marriage would have taken place, had not Napoleon 
been informed of the engagement — intelligence of which was com- 
municated by Freron's wife, whom he had deserted for Pauline. 

1 TiJs " La Revue Retrospective," iii. 17. 



188 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

General Duphot was the next aspirant to the hand of the Corsi- 
can belle, but his sudden death in attempting to quell a riot at 
Rome compelled her to make a third choice. In the meantime, 
Junot, at this period a heutenant, had fallen in love, and to infa- 
tuation, with Pauline. He disclosed his passion to Bonaparte, 
who allowed him to believe that his sister would assent with 
pleasure, when he should be able to ofler her an establishment — 
or at least sufficient security against poverty. Junot could obtain 
nothing from his father but the assurance that his share of the 
family estate would one day be 20,000 francs. "You have not 
got them yet," said Bonaparte. "Your father wears well, my 
good fellow. The truth is, you have nothing but your pay ; as 
to Paulette, she has not so much. So then, to sum up : joii 
have nothing ; she has nothing. What is the total ? Nothing. 
You cannot, then, marry at present." 

In 1796, at Milan, Pauline married Gen. Charles Emmanuel 
Leclerc, who had akeady rendered Bonaparte efficient service in 
the Italian campaign. Pauhne neither assented to the alliance, nor 
did she reject it ; she simply yielded to her brother's desire that it 
should be consummated. Professing, and doubtless feeling, the 
most complete indifference to her husband, she soon entered upon 
a career of intrigue and infidelity. Lafon, the brilliant young tra- 
gedian of the Comedie Fran^aise, was one of her first lovers. This 
connection became public then, and has become historical since. 

Bonaparte soon formed the plan of repressing the insurrection 
of the blacks in St. Domingo. An immense fleet was formed, of 
which ViUaret- Joyeuse was made Admiral, Leclerc obtaining the 
appointment of General-in-chief, with thirty-five thousand picked 
men under his command. Pauline was surprised and alarmed at 
receiving a requisition — not from her husband, for that she 
would have treated with derision — but from her brother, to ac- 
company the general upon his expedition. Leclerc himself 
would gladly have dispensed with the society of his faithless and 
capricious, though beautiful, wife. But the First Consul dreaded 



PAULINE BONAPAKTE. 189 

the possible scandal which her conduct would occasion, if left alone, 
and accordingly insisted upon her following her legal guardian to 
the tropics. "Good heavens !" she said to Madame Junot, " how 
can my brother be so hardhearted and wicked as to send me 
into exile among savages and serpents. Besides, I am ill, and I 
shall die before I get there." The spoiled child here sobbed with 
such violence, that Madame Junot knew of but one means of 
consolation. She accordingly took her by the hand, and told her 
that she would be queen of the island, and would ride in a palan- 
quin ; that slaves would watch her looks and execute her wishes ; 
that she would walk in groves of orange-trees, arrayed in the 
bright colors of a Creole costume. By this time, Pauline's hys- 
terics had entirely ceased. "And do you really think, Laurette, 
that I shall look prettier than usual in a Creole turban, a short 
waist, and a skirt of striped muslin ?" She then sent for a pack- 
age of bandanna handkerchiefs, one of which Madame Junot fan- 
tastically knotted into her hair. Her delight was unbounded 
when she found that the country where she had expected to be 
devoured, might be the scene of new triumphs in the toilet, and 
afford her an occasion for innovations in fashion. "Oh! those 
lovely mountains," she exclaimed, " we will have a fete every day, 
and a ball every night." 

While the general was organizing his fleet, Pauline was pre- 
paring her wardrobe. Madame Germon, M'lles Despaux and 
rOlive, Leroy, Copp, Foncier and Biennais, contributed, each in 
their department, to the more harmless of the two batteries 
which the squadron was to convey across the seas. Had the flag- 
ship I'Oclan been captured on her way, the enemy might with good 
reason have wondered at the prodigious store of articles of female 
apparel and adornment they would have found comprising her 
cargo — a singular equipment for a vessel bound upon so severe 
an errand. They might also have expressed surprise at the lux- 
urious arrangement of the ship — at its boudoir, its conservatory, 
its mirrors, its pantry. Its lovely passenger meant to have no 



190 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

possible desire ungratilied, and her reluctant husband and her in- 
dulgent brother were wilhng to yield to her inclinations. She sailed 
from Brest in December, 1801, the whole squadron consisting of 
twenty -two frigates and thirty-five ships of the line. 

"The First Consul wished that his sister," says de Salgues, 
" like another Cleopatra, should embellish with her presence and 
her charms the admiral's vessel : in spite of her refusal, she was 
taken to Brest, and there put on shipboard.* This rigor of Bona- 
parte towards a sister whom he seemed to love tenderly, astonished 
the public ; but justification was found in the assertion that, the 
princess was violently in love with a young and brilliant comedian, 
and Bonaparte saw no surer remedy than to put 1,200 leagues be- 
tween the beauty and her lover." ^ 

Two poets were sent out with the squadron, MM. Esmenard 
and Norvins. The latter has left an account of the voyage and 
the campaign, too poetic to be altogether reliable. He represents 
Pauline as reclining upon the quarter-deck, and surrounded by 
her court — the oflBicers of the staff — and reminding all conversant 
with the classics, of the maritime Venus and the Galatea of the 
Greeks. 

The expedition was disastrous in every sense. General Leclerc 
proved totally incompetent, and the splendid army under his com- 
mand was well-nigh destroyed by battle and fever. The general 
died of a lingering disease, and Pauline caused his body to be 
embalmed and placed in a triple cedar coSin. In this cofiin she 
concealed her jewels and treasures, and embarked with them on 
board the Swiftsure, homeward bound. 

She returned to France in a costume very different from that in 
which she set out : she went in bandanna and returned in black. 
On reaching Paris, she gave way to a paroxysm of grief and de- 
spair, which seemed too ostentatious to be sincere. She even 
cropped her luxuriant hair, and for a time refused to be comforted. 

* The portrait of Pauline, upon the opposite page, is from an original by David, in the Gallery of Versailles. 
1 Jlemoirs, iv. 495. 




J.Champatfne del 



Imp .Lemercier.Pans . 



MMl lOMAFlMTl 



THE PRINCESS BORGHESE. 191 

Society doubted the reality of her affliction, while Napoleon openly 
scoffed at it. "Has Pauline cut off her hair ?" he asked. " Then it is 
because she knows it will grow again, richer and thicker than ever." 

Napoleon desired that she should wear her weeds with pro- 
priety, and consequently placed her under the care of his brother 
Joseph and his wife. Her inclination for retirement did not last 
long, and she reproached Napoleon vehemently for keeping her 
in confinement. " Oh dear me !" she said, " I shall certainly sink 
under this. If my brother determines to shut me up from the 
world, I shall put an end to my existence at once." To this, 
General Junot, who was present, replied that he had often heard 
of the Venus de' Medici, of the Yenus Anadyomene, but never 
of a Venus Suicide. This comparison revived the disconsolate 
beauty, and she requested her former suitor to come and see her 
frequently. 

In 1803, Bonaparte's plans for making himself emperor were 
nearly completed. An opportunity now occurred of accustoming 
the French to princely honors and titles in his family. Don Camillo 
Borghese, the heir to the finest villa, palace and picture-gallery in 
Italy, the representative of one of the most illustrious Italian fami- 
lies, being compelled to leave Rome for political reasons, visited 
Paris, and was presented to Bonaparte. The latter conceived an 
affection for him, made him a French citizen and major of a 
mounted regiment in the Consular Guard, and speedily arranged 
a match between him and Madame Leclerc. The prince was under 
the middle size ; his countenance was handsome, but without ex- 
pression. His education had been much neglected, and his prin- 
cipal accomplishments were those of a skillful swordsman and an 
experienced jockey. The marriage took place on the 6th of No- 
vember, 1803. Pauline was thus the first of Bonaparte's family 
to wear a coronet. The faubourg St. Germain smiled and said, 
" Well, one of them is a real princess after all." 

The ceremonious presentation of Pauline, after her marriage, 
to Josephine, was an epoch in her frivolous and fantastic life. Her 



192 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

detestation of Josephine, wliicli was so ill concealed as to be noto- 
rious, and whicli arose from jealousy, led her on this occasion to 
make a display of magnificence such as France had hardly wit- 
nessed since Louis XY. Josephine, in her domestic differences 
with Pauline, acted solely upon the defensive ; she accepted a 
contest forced upon her, and which she did nothing to provoke. 
On this occasion — one which, from the circumstances of her sister- 
in-law's marriage, foreshadowed the regal destinies of the family 
— she resolved to dispute with her at once the palm of beauty and 
the supremacy of taste. The presentation was to take place in the 
grand salon at St. Cloud, the furniture and decorations of which 
were blue and gold. She adapted her toilet to this condition of 
the accessories in the midst of which she was to appear. 

She wore a dress of white India muslin, though the season was 
winter. The skirt was more voluminous than the prevailing 
fashion warranted ; this innovation was one of her own suggesting. 
The lower hem was trimmed with a single band of gold, of the 
width of the finger. The bodice was heavily draped in thick 
folds and fastened upon the shoulders by two golden lions' heads, 
set in black enamel. The girdle, embroidered with gold, was 
attached in front by a clasp of black enamel and gold. The sleeves 
were short and full, descending but little below the shoulders, and 
displaying the wearer's remarkably handsome arms. 

Her head-dress was that represented upon antique cameos. 
Her hair was gathered into a knot upon the top, and enclosed in 
a net-work of golden chains, crossing each other at right angles, 
each square containing a black enamelled rosette. Her necklace, 
bracelets and ear-rings were of the same material. Bonaparte, on 
coming into the salon, was struck by this beautiful though se- 
verely simple attire, and kissing Josephine on the shoulder, said, 
"Why, I shall be jealous, Josephine ; have you designs on any 
one ?" " Oh no," she replied, " I knew you liked to see me in 
white, and I have dressed in white ; nothing more." " "Well, if 
you did it to please me, you have succeeded." 



PAULINE AND JOSEPHINE. 193 

Madame Borgliese was expected at eight o'clock, but as slie 
had not made her appearance at half-past eight, Bonaparte lost 
patience, and retired to his cabinet. The princess, with her first 
chamberlain — the flattering title given by the pubhc to her hus- 
band — ariived at a quarter past nine, and consequently did not 
see her brother. The splendor of her equipage was unprece- 
dented, since the commencement of the Revolution : her carriage, 
built for her new dignity and decorated with the arms of the Bor- 
gh^se family, was drawn by six horses : an outrider before and 
another behind, and three lackeys bearing torches, completed the 
pomp of the cavalcade. The prince and princess were announced 
by an usher who forgot the Republic and foresaw the Empire, for 
he cried, " Monseigneur le Prince et Madame la Princesse Bor- 
ghese." The company assembled in the jjarlor rose to their feet. 
Josephine stood directly in front of her chair, without advancing 
to meet her guests ; and on the appearance of her resplendent 
sister upon the threshold, showed by a passing flush upon her 
cheek, that the lovely and gorgeous apparition had sent a pang 
to her heart. Pauline was that night a marvel of beauty and a 
miracle of effulgence. 

Her robe was of pale green velvet. The front and hem of 
the skirt were absolutely loaded with diamonds ; the bodice and 
sleeves were embroidered with diamond wreaths and diamond 
clusters. Diamonds encircled her neck and enlaced her arms. 
Her diadem was composed of emeralds set in diamonds ; and her 
bouquet was formed of emeralds, diamonds and pearls. Golconda 
had been rifled for this incrustation of gems ; and the princess 
who bore the burden was worth, on this memorable occasion, 
exactly three millions and three quarters in jewels alone ! 

Josephine promptly recovered from the shock of Pauline's 
unequalled loveliness, and the conversation became general. The 
following dialogue ensued between Pauline and Madame Junot, 
who was present at the introduction : 

" Well," said the former, " how do I look to-night?" 
25 



194 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

" Deliciously ! At ouce beautiful aud magnificent." 

" Oh, you love me, and so you spoil me." 

"No, I mean what I say, child: but why did you come so 
late ?" 

' ' Oh, I arranged that on purpose : I was afraid of finding you 
at table. I do not mind missing Napoleon : it was Josephine 
that I wanted to meet and crush. Oh, Laurette, Laurette, see 
how disconcerted she is ! Oh, I am so happy !" 

" Hush, you may be heard." 

"What matters that? I do not love her! She meant to 
annoy me, just now, by not advancing to meet me, and thus 
making me cross the salon, but she did me the greatest favor, on 
the contrary." 

"How so, pray?" 

"Because my train would not have had time or space to 
unfold, had she greeted me half way ; as it was, every one could 
see and admire the whole of it. After all, Josephine is well 
dressed ! White and gold make a fine contrast with the deep blue 
of the furniture and hangings. Oh! dear me! Ah! monDieu!" 

"Why, Paulette, what is the matter?" 

" Why did I not think of the color of the room ? And why 
did not you, Laurette, you who are my friend and sister, why did 
you not put me on my guard ?" 

" You knew as well as I that the grand salon of St. Cloud is 
blue." 

" Tes, but in my anxiety and hurry, I forgot it, and so I have 
come here in a green gown to sit down in a blue chair ! I am 
sure I must be hideous ! Green and blue ! What is the name 
of that green and blue revolutionary ribbon ? Oh, I remember : 
"Prejudice overcome." I must be very ugly, dear, am I not! 
The reflection of these two colors must ruin me. WeU, it can't be 
helped, now. Come with me back to Paris, Laurette, to-night." 

" Oh, no. Think of your husband and yom* honej^moon that 
I should interrupt." 



CANOVA'S STATUE OF PAULINE. 195 

" Houej'moon ! Honeymoon with, that idiot ! You are jest- 
ing, I suppose." 

" No, I was serious. But, if I shall not break in upon a t§te- 
a-tete, I'll accept your invitation, and return with you to Paris." ^ 

The prince and princess soon set off for Rome, where Paul- 
ine's- son by General Leclerc, and the only child she ever had, 
sickened and died. It was at this time that Canova executed the 
statue of the princess — perhaps his chef-d'oeuvre. It is a semi- 
nude figure, modelled from life, and represented as half reclining 
upon a couch ; the manner and expression strongly recall the 
Venus of Praxiteles. The statue is known as the Venus Victo- 
rious. Pauline, whose audacity in reply was often as remarkable 
as the irregularity of her conduct, furnished Rome and, indeed, 
Europe, with a theme for scandal, by a remark made in reference 
to this statue, many years later, to Madame Junot. The latter 
expressed her surprise that the princess should have submit- 
ted to such an exposure of her person. "What, you, Madame, 
you were youi'self the model, and in Canova's studio?" "Oh, 
dear me, yes ; why not? There was a good fire !" The sister of 
Napoleon supposed that Madame Junot referred to the incon- 
venience of the exhibition, and not to its indelicacy. " There is 
in this reply," says Capefigue, " a dash of that cynic impudence 
of the Roman women in their decline, which the indignation of 
Juvenal has branded by his ' Gannit in amplexu.' "^ 

The statue was for a long time exhibited to the public, who 
gave it the familiar name of La Paolina, in the Borghfese palace. 
" Never has the chisel of the sculptor," says a critic, " given the 
world a more perfect gem. In the time of the Greeks, it would 
have been worshipped as the very incarnation of Venus. She is 
half reclining upon a sofa, the marble of which might be taken 
for down, and seems to yield beneath her weight. She holds in 
her hand the apple which she is supposed to have just won from 

1 .I'Abr. Hist. Jes Salons <Ie Paris, T. 6fi. . . Appula gannit sicut in amplexu. . 

Jut. Sat. vi. 04. 



196 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Paris, and whence comes her title of Venus Victorious. The face 
is charming, and the flesh possesses that morbidezza which all 
moderns acknowledge to have belonged only to Phidias." 

Don Oamillo at last awoke to the mortifying consciousness 
that he was exhibiting, not the nude statue of Venus Victrix, but 
that of the princess his wife. He removed it to Florence and 
subsequently to Turin, where it was concealed from observation, 
for some years. It may now be seen at Rome, at the Borghese 
villa, the catalogue claiming the form as a Venus, and the face 
only as that of a Bonaparte. 

The young bride soon tired of her husband, who, in a mea- 
sure, seems to have deserved the humiliating title she had given 
him at St. Cloud. She could not be prevailed upon to remain 
in Rome, and, late in the year 1805, hastened back to Paris, 
leaving Don Camillo behind her. She graciously granted him 
permission to follow, or to stay away, at his choice. For a time, 
he chose the latter. 

Napoleon had now become emperor, and was beset by a pas- 
sion for royalty. He made his brothers kings, and to his sisters he 
gave duchies and principalities. On Elisa, the eldest, he bestowed 
the republic of Lucca and Piombino ; Caroline he made Grand 
Duchess of Berg ; then came the turn of the princess Pauline. 
She was created Duchess of G-uastalla. "Even a mole-hill," we 
are told, " seemed too much for her to govern. Had there been 
kingdoms in the air, as in the time of the sylphs, she might have 
been enveloped in a pink and blue cloud, richly perfumed, and 
sent to reign in those fortunate regions, where the sceptre of 
government is a sprig of flowers. This, however, did not suit 
her : her tears and her pretty airs amused her brother for a 
time ; but as it was not in his nature to be patient, he became 
angry at last. The princess Elisa discovered that Lucca and 
Piombino were miserable principalities. She complained ; the 
princess Caroline complained ; the princess Pauline complained : 
it was a chorus of grievances. ' Once for all,' exclaimed the 



HOUSEHOLD OF THE PKINCESS. 197 

Emperor, ' what does all this mean ? Will these ladies never be 
content ? One would really think we were sharing the inherit- 
ance of the late king our father !' " 

Napoleon now organized the household of Pauline, who pre- 
ferred remaining at Paris to visiting her duchy of Guastalla. He 
made her the centre of a small though brilliant court, which she 
held at Neuilly, a mile or two without the walls. The lady of 
honor was Madame Champagny, Duchess de Cadore, the wife of 
the Minister of the Interior^ — a lady who was herself a model of 
womanly virtues, but who failed to acquire influence over her 
impulsive and headstrong charge. Her "ladies to accompany" 
were Madame de Barral, so beautiful that it was matter of aston- 
ishment that the princess admitted her to her society and friend- 
ship ; Madame de Br^han, a pretty woman with a sarcastic tongue ; 
and subsequently Madame de Mathis, "whose grown-up face was 
placed upon the body of a child." Cardinal Spina, one of the 
negotiators of the Concordat, was the almoner ; M. de Montbreton, 
one of the princess' successful lovers, her Master of the Horse ; 
M. Clermont-Tonnerre and, at a later period, M. de Forbin, re- 
nowned at the time as the first gentleman of France, were her 
chamberlains. A pretty young lady, with a pretty name, M'Ue 
Jenny Millot, was her reader. 

As Napoleon divided the week, Pauline's evening for reception 
was Wednesday. She did less to promote gaiety and sociability 
than any member of the family. She was too indolent to make 
any other preparation than that of her own toilet, beforehand, or 
to listen during the evening to any thing beyond her own praises. 
She was negligent of her guests, among whom were very few 
handsome women — a circumstance due to a special contrivance of 
her own. Her list of invitations was drawri up by Duroc, Grand 
Marshal of the Tuileries, and when he proposed the name of any 
one of whose appearance Pauline was jealous, she usually induced 
him, by pretty airs and arch objections, to erase it. Sometimes 
he hesitated: "Why exclude her?" he would say ; "are there 



198 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

ever too many handsome women?" " Oh, I shall be there, and 
you can admh-e me, Duroc, as much as you like." She would then 
smile, and Duroc would draw his pen through the offending name. 
And thus the peerless beauty was tranquillized. 

Pauline was far from being a wise httle body, and her listeners 
were often only deterred from laughing, to relieve their pent-up 
merriment, by the lofty rank of her imperial highness. She one 
day asked Madame Junot why she had never given her a fete at 
her country seat at Raincy. "Because, as your highness can 
hardly bear the motion of a carriage, I did not suppose you could 
hunt, which is the only amusement we have at Raincy." " And 
why could I not hunt ?" " Because you could not ride on horse- 
back." "But I could follow in my palanquin." " Why, no, madame, 
you cannot hunt in a palanquin." The idea struck Madame 
Junot so ludicrously — that of the princess, reclining upon a 
palanquin, and borne upou the shoulders of four men, careering 
over hill and dale, and swooping through glen and thicket, in a 
hopeless race with hounds and horses, that she could not restrain 
her laughter. " Everybody laughs," continued Pauline, " when 1 
talk of following the hunt in my palanquin ; and M. de Mont- 
breton says that I have not common sense. Laurette, I don't 
think that you have ever seen my palanquin, have you ?" 

This conversation took place under singular circumstances. 
Madame Junot was in bed, and in an exceedingly interesting situ- 
ation, " having," as she herself states, " confident hopes of a boy 
after her five girls." Pauline had clambered upon the bed, and 
had seated herself upon Madame Junot's feet. After having 
settled the question relative to hunting in a palanquin, she 
talked for an hour in her usual discursive and miscellaneous style, 
skipping from court formalities to pink satin, and from Napoleon's 
battles to embroidered nightcaps. Then a bright idea struck her : 
Laurette had not seen her newly appointed chamberlain. She 
leaned over the invalid, seized three bell ropes, and pulled them 
all together, thus summoning the valet, the waiting woman and 



PAULINE'S TASTE IN DRESS. 199 

the chambermaid at once. The new chamberlain, M. de Forbin, 
who was waiting below, was sent for and presented to the pros- 
trate invalid, by the princess still seated upon her recumbent 
friend's feet. 

With the single exception of Josephine, no lady in France dis- 
played greater taste in dress than Pauline. In fact, she thought 
of little else than the prosecution of her intrigues and the occupa- 
tions of her toilet. Her entrance into a ball-room rarely failed to 
elicit a murmur of admiration ; on one occasion, says an enthu- 
siast, she absolutely illumined the palace. She wore, on the 
evening in question, a dress which she said should immortalize 
her, and upon which she was engaged for seven consecutive days, 
to the exclusion of any other avocation. Her head-dress con- 
sisted of narrow bands of soft fur, of a tiger pattern ; these bands 
were surmounted by bunches of golden grapes. Her robe was of 
fine India muslin, with a deep bordering of gold, the pattern 
being grapes and vine leaves. Her tunic was Greek in form, and 
displayed her figure to admirable advantage ; it was attached at 
the shoulders by fine stone cameos. Her girdle consisted of a 
gold band, the clasp of which was a richly-fashioned antique stone. 
Her beautiful arms were adorned with bracelets formed of gold 
and cameos. Pauline possessed one quality, rare in so pretty a 
woman : she did not compromise her beauty by aflfectation ; or, 
at least, her sense of her own matchless loveliness, as she mani- 
fested it in her manner, went no farther than what may be termed 
consciousness. 

Don Camillo subsequently returned from Rome, and was made 
prince of the French Empire by Napoleon. He distinguished him- 
self at several of the Prussian battle-fields, and in 1808 was made 
governor-general of Piedmont and Genoa, which Napoleon had 
just annexed to France under the title of " Departments beyond 
the Alps." He at once set out for Turin, his capital, taking Nice, 
where PauUne was spending the winter for her health, on his way, 
for she had consented to share his new dignity with him. Her 



200 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

imperial highness was a poor traveller, and bore the fatigue of 
posting with great impatience. The equerry, M. de Montbreton, 
found ample occupation in building a fortress of cushions around 
the illustrious invahd, while the ladies of honor reheved each 
other in the duty of sitting upon her feet, to keep them warna. 

Pauhne was not long contented at Turin, although her hus- 
band held a sumptuous vice-regal court. Her position did not 
please her, for she had expected to be first, and found herself 
only the third. The first dignitary of Piedmont was an unoccupied 
arm-chair, which, by a diplomatic fiction, was supposed to repre- 
sent the Emperor of the French and King of Italy ; behind this 
chair stood the highest functionaries of the government, as if at- 
tending N^apoleon himself. The second dignitary was the governor- 
general, who subjected the imperious and haughty Duchess of 
Guastalla to the gross indignity of being inferior in ofl&cial import- 
ance to himself. So Pauline abandoned Prince Camido at Turin, 
precisely as .she had done at Rome, and returned to JSTeuUl}' and 
Paris. Her husband did not seek to retain or to recall her ; he 
continued to administer the government with success, and to en- 
tertain foreigners with hospitalitj^ till the fall of Napoleon in 1814, 
when he restored Piedmont to Austria, and returned to his patri- 
monial palace at Rome. 

Pauline, upon her arrival in France from Turin, divided her 
time between the Tuileries and her chateau at NeuiUy. She had 
never striven to conceal her intrigues with the various gentlemen 
who were successively the heroes of her transitory attachments ; 
she now even sought publicitj^ and scandal. The most consj)icuous 
ofherHaisons, coming to the knowledge of ISTapoleon, ended fatally 
for the young man who was the object of it. M. Jules de Canou- 
viUe was a young, courtly and dashing colonel of hussars, and 
soon became the favorite of the princess. J^ot satisfied with the 
conquest itself, he desired the reputation of it. This he soon ob- 
tained, and to his heart's content. The court dentist, M. Bous- 
quet, one day received a professional summons from Pauline. He 



AN INTRIGUE AND ITS PUNISHMENT. 201 

was conducted to her boudoir, where he found a very elegant 
young man, neghgently clad in a dressing-gown. He was grace- 
fully extended upon a sofa, aud begged the dentist " to be careful 
of the teeth of his Paulette." The innocent Mr. Bousquet natu- 
rally took this considerate gentleman to be Don Camillo Borgh^se. 
He promised to use due caution. Throughout his stay the sup- 
posed husband enjoined scrupulous attention upon the operator. 
As the dentist left the apartment of her im^Derial highness, the 
ladies of the household, the chamberlains, &c., gathered around 
him, and inquired the result of his visit. " The princess is doing 
very well," he replied, " and must be gratified at the tender at- 
tachment of her august husband, which he has just manifested 
before me in the most touching manner. His anxiety was very 
great, and I could with difficulty convince him of the safety of the 
simple measures I proposed. I shall acquaint every one with 
what I have seen. It is agreeable to be able to cite such examples 
of conjugal love in so elevated a rank. I am really quite pene- 
trated." The ante-chamber was convulsed with laughter, but the 
good dentist was allowed to depart full of his generous illusion. 
The young man in the dressing-gown was M. Jules de Canou- 
ville. This connection came to ISTapoleon's knowledge in the fol- 
lowing manner : 

Alexander of Russia had given him, at Brfurth, three superb 
sable pelisses. One of these the Emperor sent to Pauline, and 
she gave it to her lover. Some days after, at a review upon the 
Place du Carrousel, M. de Canouville's horse became unruly, and 
threw the manoeuvres into confusion ; the rider thus attracted 
Napoleon's attention. He observed that the pelisse given to his 
sister had been transformed into a hussar's dollman. " M. de 
Canouville," he exclaimed in a voice of thunder, "your horse is 
too young and his blood is too hot : be good enough to go and 
cool him in Russia." Three days afterwards, the young man 
quitted Paris upon his exile, leaving Pauline, for once, in a state 
of genuine affliction. She sent a messenger once a fortnight to 

26 



202 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

see Mm and to speak with him, as a letter did not sufficiently 
tranquillize her. M. de Canouville behaved well and distin- 
guished himself in action. He was accidentally killed by the 
discharge of a cannon after a battle which would have entitled 
him to promotion. The portrait of Pauline, surrounded with 
diamonds, was found upon his person : it was conveyed to 
Murat, who returned it to his sister-in-law. 

The inconstant princess, who had already begun to forget her 
lover in his absence, forgot him completely upon his death. She 
soon resumed her fashionable career, and plunged with more 
ardor than ever into the elegant foUies of the court. " She was 
one evening," says Madame Junot, "to represent Italy, in a fancy 
quadrille, to be danced in the theatre of the Tuileries. She was 
on that occasion the most perfect embodiment of beauty that can 
be imagined. She wore upon her head a light casque of bur- 
nished gold, surmounted by small ostrich feathers of spotless 
white. Her bosom was covered with an segis of golden scales, 
to which was attached a tunic of India muslin embroidered in 
gold. The most exquisite part of her appearance was her arms 
and feet : the former were encircled with bracelets, in which were 
enchased the most beautiful cameos belonging to the house of 
Borghfese ; her little feet were shod with slender sandals of pur- 
ple silk, the bands of which were gold ; at each point where the 
latter crossed upon the leg, was attached a magnificent cameo. 
The sash which held the aegis on her bosom was of sohd gold, 
and the centre was ornamented with that most precious gem of 
the Borghese collection — the dying Medusa : to all this magTiifi- 
cence was added a short dagger, highly embossed with gold and 
precious stones, which she carried in her hand. Her appearance 
was that of a fairy apparition, almost without substance, and as it 
were celestial. 

" She was, indeed, an elegant nymph. Her statue, by Ca- 
nova, moulded from herself, is that of an enchantress. It has 
been asserted that the artist corrected defects in the leg and bust. 



PAULINE AND MAEIE LOUISE. 203 

I have seen the legs of the princess, as I believe all have who 
were moderately intimate with her, and I have observed no such 
defects : indeed the perfection of their make may be inferred from 
her walk : it was slow, because she was an invalid, but the grace 
of her movements showed that her limbs were happily formed. 
How finely her head was inclined, and how beautifully it turned 
upon her shoulders !" 

She had one physical defect, however, which almost amounted 
to a deformity. Her ears were two thin, pale pieces of cartilage, 
without curl or curve. This caprice of nature was more remark- 
able from the contrast with her lovely features. A rival belle 
and haughty legitimist, Madame de Contades, who would never 
acknowledge either Napoleon's glory or his sister's beauty, once 
mortified Pauline excessively by calling attention, in a ball-room, 
to this unfortunate disfigurement. She noticed her reclining 
upon a sofa, under the blaze of a chandelier. "What a pity," she 
said aloud, "that such a pretty woman should be defoi'med. I 
declare if I had such a pair of ears, I would have them cut off." 
Poor Pauline burst into tears, and soon retired from the room. 
She revenged herself upon Madame de Contades by calling her a 
May-pole. 

Pauline, who had never liked Josephine, liked Marie Louise 
no better. Not long after the arrival of the archduchess in 
France, and her marriage with Napoleon, she took occasion to 
insult her in a manner so public and insolent that she drew upon 
herself exile and disgrace. In the midst of the brilliant throng 
present at an official reception, and behind the back of Marie 
Louise, she raised her thumb and finger to her forehead, forming 
there a construction similar to that worn by Falstaff when dis- 
guised as Heme the Hunter, and thereby indicating the treatment 
her brother might expect from his Austrian bride. Marie Louise 
saw this extraordinary piece of pantomime in a mirror. The 
company laughed, while Napoleon scowled. He had but lately 
repudiated his wife, and he now determined to banish his sister. 



204 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

The order to that effect was peremptory, and Pauline withdrew, 
unabashed and impertinent, to her husband's palace at Rome, 
where she led a briUiant and careless existence. Don Camillo 
remained steadfastly at Tm'in. 

Thus far, vice and excess had been the most conspicuous fea- 
tures of Pauline's conduct ; she now showed herself capable of 
heroism, sacrifice and devotion, qualities which the world has a 
right to expect of those who, though not born, are at least bred, 
upon the steps of a throne. She had spent the winter of 1813-14 
at Nice, and at Hy^res in the south of France. On the 20th of 
April, Napoleon left Fontainebleau for Elba, after what has been 
stigmatized as " a scene of desertion never equalled in any age 
of the world — tergiversations too hideous to be credible, if not 
recorded by eye-witnesses."' Pauline quitted Hyeres in order 
to meet him near Fr6jus : while waiting, she witnessed many of 
the fearful tumults which were excited by the passage of the 
" Corsican tyrant." She saw his statues overturned and his hfe 
menaced. The brother and sister met at Luc, at two o'clock in 
the afternoon, on the 26th of April. Napoleon entered the 
chamber of the princess ; she extended her arms, but burst into 
tears on seeing that he wore an Austrian uniform as a disguise. 
"Why this uniform?" she asked. "Why, Pauline," returned 
Napoleon, reproachfuUy, " would you have me dead?" PauUne 
looked at him steadfastly, and said, "I cannot embrace you in 
that dress. 0, Napoleon, what have you done !" Napoleon 
withdrew and changed his costume. He returned in the uniform 
of the Old Guard. Pauline pressed him to her heart again and 
again, astonishing those who best knew her by this unexpected 
burst of feehng. 

But Pauhne could act as weU as weep. She, with Madame 
M^re, followed Napoleon to Elba in October of the same year. 
She abandoned the frivoHties and gaieties to which for years she 
had been accustomed, and devoted herself, with untiring energy, 

1 Alison's Europe, x. 240. 



PAULINE AND LORD BROUGHAM. 205 

to furthering the plans formed for his escape. She placed all her 
jewels at his disposal : Napoleon never used them ; they were in 
his carriage at Waterloo, which was taken by the Allies, and exhi- 
bited for money at London. The diamonds had disappeared, and 
it was never known into whose hands they had fallen. On the 26th 
of February, 1815, she gave a ball to the principal personages of 
Elba, and that very night Napoleon stepped on board the brig 
I'Inconstant, and weighed anchor for France. Pauline and Na- 
poleon never met again. She returned to Rome and he to Paris, 
from whence, by way of Waterloo, he passed on to St. Helena. 

Don Camillo was now compelled, by the restoration of Pied- 
mont to Austrian rule, to resume his allegiance as a Roman sub- 
ject. He refused, however, to see or to receive his wife ; but 
the pope took the matter into his own hands, and appointed a 
committee of cardinals to decide upon a method of reconciliation. 
The prince was ordered to share his palace with the princess, and 
to place one hundred and fifty thousand francs a-year at her 
disposal. He obeyed, but ungraciously, and finally retired to 
Florence, where he built a palace for his own private use, leav- 
ing to her the undivided control of his superb establishment at 
Rome. 

PauUne was still marvellously beautiful, though her health 
was delicate, and her constitution impaired. She was surrounded 
with admirers, the most ardent of whom was Lord Brougham. 
He was admitted to the mystei-ies of her toilet, and she allowed 
him to sit upon the floor before her and hold her feet in his 
hands. He was also permitted, as a great favor, to hand pins to 
her dressing maids, when they needed them in the arrangement 
of her person. " How can you take pleasure," some one asked 
her, "in the society of men who have imprisoned your brother 
at St. Helena ?" 

" Can you not understand," she replied vehemently, " that I 
enjoy the sight of these men, once so arrogant, now humbling 
themselves to the dust of my sandals ? Can you not see that the 



206 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

complaints of that British peer are sweet music to my soul? 
He stands for hours to give pins to my waiting maids, because 
they are to touch my person. He has the courage to confront 
the caprices of a woman, but he does not dare to speak before his 
parliament in behalf of that woman's brother, that he may be 
more kindly treated in his accursed dungeon at St. Helena. And 
this man hopes that I may love him ! And the others hope I may 
love them ! If I had neither heart nor soul, perhaps I might ! 
Let them love on and suffer the penalty !"^ 

Pauline became convinced in 1821 that Napoleon was dying 
at St. Helena. She wrote a letter to Lord Liverpool, then prime- 
minister of England, in which she earnestly begged, in the name 
of all the members of the family, that her brother might be re- 
moved to a less dangerous climate. "If so reasonable a request 
be refused," she said, "it will be pronouncing his sentence of 
death — in which case I beg permission to depart for St. Helena, 
to join my brother and receive his last sigh. I feel that the mo- 
ments of his life are numbered, and I should for ever reproach 
myself if I did not use all the means in my power to alleviate 
his sufferings and testify my devotion." The Earl of Liverpool 
granted the latter portion of the request, but too late. Napo- 
leon was already dead at the date of Pauline's appeal. 

She now sank into a rapid dechne, though she continued to 
live in a constant whirl of gaiety. Foreigners visiting Rome 
formed her principal society ; they found her receptions and en- 
tertainments hospitable, refined and sumptuous. Early in 1825, 
she went to Pisa for a change of air. It was evident to herself as 
well as to her friends, that she could not long survive. She now 
performed the last eccentricity of an eccentric life. Though pos- 
sessed of no fortune whatever, and living upon the forced bounty 
of her husband, she composed and executed an imposing instru- 
ment which she called her will. In this she made large and 
• numerous legacies, forming in the aggregate a sum of princely 

1 d*Abr. Meni. de la Restauration, iv. 164. 



CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE OF PAULINE. 207 

magnificence. Don Camillo now recalled her to Florence, where 
a reconciliation was effected and mutual forgiveness extended. The 
Princess Borgh^se expired in the arms of the prince, on the 9th 
of June, 1825. With a generosity of which he hardly seemed 
capable, and which she had certainly done nothing to deserve, he 
recognized and paid the bequests that she had made without con- 
sulting or considering the state of his fortune. 

Napoleon often mentioned Pauline at St. Helena. He consi- 
dered her the handsomest woman of her time, and said that 
artists were accustomed to speak of her as the modern Venus de' 
Medici. When at Mce, she established, he said, a daily line of 
baggage wagons to and from Paris, to bring her supplies of the 
newest fashions. " Had I known it," he added, " she would have 
been soundly scolded. After all, she was the kindest creature 
in the world." ^ 

The influence of Pauline Bonaparte upon public morals and 
the tone of society was injurious ; her example, the very worst. 
" She placed herself," says de Salgues, " out of the pale of pro- 
priety ; the interior of her house was a hotbed of corruption and 
scandal. This degeneracy of morals was not without its effect 
upon the opinion of the time, for people become vicious on seeing 
vice prosper.'"* 

Though the sister of Napoleon, Pauline is hardly a historical 
character. She seems a fancy sketch, an ideal portraiture, that by 
some freak of nature or of the imagination, has become akin 
to personages in real life. By the side of her brother, she is as 
spun glass next to moulded bronze, biscuit of Sevres after Parian 
marble. The Greeks made Mars the lover of Venus ; but Cor- 
sican fact is stranger than Grecian mythology. At Ajaccio, Mars 
and Venus were born of the same mother — an anomaly too dar- 
ing for fiction, and which history alone could have ventured to 
exhibit. 

1 Las Cases, i. part ii. 321. 2 Memoirs, vl. 288. 



CHAPTER III. 

Literature under Napoleon — Oriani and Corneille — Bernardin de St. Pierre — Chenier — Delille — 
Chateaubriand — Madame de Stael — The Institute — ^Napoleon's favorite Authors — His Treat- 
ment of Literary Men — The Censorship — Duels — Lemercier — Encouragement extended to 
Literature and the Sciences — Non-bestowal of the Awards — Liberty of the Press — An Apol- 
ogy for the Penury of Letters under Napoleon — Literature under Napoleon III. 

WHEN in Italy, during the early part of his career, jSTapoleon 
publicly addressed a letter to Oriani, the astronomer, in 
which he said that all men of genius who had distinguished them- 
selves in the republic of letters were to be accounted natives of 
France. " The French people," he added, "have more pride in 
enrolling among their citizens a skillful mathematician, a renowned 
painter, an eminent author, than in adding to their territories a 
large and wealthy city." 

Afterwards, at St. Helena, regretting the penury of literature 
during his reign, he said, "If Corneille had lived in my time, 
I would have created him a prince." This was doubtless meant in 
all sincerity, and the fallen sovereign certainly intended to speak 
of literature with regard and of genius with respect. And yet had 
Corneille been a prince of the empire, his titles and his honors 
would have been extinguished at Waterloo ; and the mind must 
be singularly warped by the contemplation of fleeting grandeurs 
and ephemeral distinctions, that would be gratified by the creation 
of a patent of parvenu nobility for the possessor of a world's ad- 
miration and a poet's immortality. It is a question whether it is 
extending a proper patronage to genius to class it with the fops. 



LITERATUKE UNDER NAPOLEON. 209 

sycophants, renegades and bandits who have been born to titles 
or upon whom blazons have been conferred. 

Notwithstanding the glaring poverty of letters under the Em- 
pire — which has been indeed generally confessed — a portion of 
Napoleon's indiscreet eulogists have created for him a creditable 
literary galaxy, and have presented an imposing list of the notabil- 
ities of his reign. "Though his era was prominently military," 
says an enthusiast, "yet at the head of the cortege, marched 
a grand and noble literature — Chateaubriand, Bernardin de St. 
Pierre, Chenier, Picard, Delille, Benjamin Constant and Madame 
de Stael."^ It is not possible, however, to claim these writers for 
Napoleon's literary circle ; the enthusiast's chronology is as faulty 
as his logic. The subject is worth a moment's consideration. 

The literature of an age or of a reign, when attributed to, or 
connected with, the monarch who is the chief of the government 
and the head of society, must be considered as a literature bear- 
ing the impress of the national mind at the time, presenting a 
reflex of the manners and morals of the people, and offering, in a 
permanent shape, the materials for gathering an opinion of the 
tone of thought, of the degree of virtue and of the progress of 
taste, during the period referred to. No such materials have de- 
scended to us from the era of Napoleon ; at least none of which 
he was the patron and jDroducer. Bernardin de St. Pierre and 
Chenier wrote before him ; Chateaubriand, the embodiment of 
the moral protestation of the age, and an exile for fifteen years, 
wrote against him : Constant and Madame de Stael wrote in spite 
of him. Hardly a line of pure literature can be attributed either 
to the spirit of Napoleon's institutions, to his influence, his ex- 
ample or his encouragement. 

With what justice can St. Pierre be claimed for the period of 
Napoleon's tenure of power ? Paul and Virginia was published 
in 1789, when Napoleon was yet unknown. Its success was im- 
mense, and its merits have given it permanence. The simple 

I Le Si^cle de Napoleou, rubric Portalis, 

27 



210 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

picture of Virginia, clad in a robe of plain white muslin and a 
straw hat, produced an immediate revolution in the fashion of 
ladies' dress, and silks and satins disappeared as if by magic, 
before the captivating simplicity of the island heroine's attire. 
Bernardin de St. Pierre was the French Goldsmith : his manner 
was a reminiscence and his matter a by-gone. It was illustrative 
of no age, and characteristic of no national feature. Least of all 
was it referable to the revolutionary period which actually pro- 
duced it, or to the imperial episode which was twenty years sub- 
sequent to it. The enthusiast has here made an error in date. 

With what propriety can Chenier, a republican poet, a revo- 
lutionary fanatic, be violently detached from the period of anar- 
chy and confusion to which he belongs, and carried forward to 
the account of a succeeding period, merely because, after having 
hushed his muse, it was his lot to die in 1811 ? The enthusiast 
has here confounded meum and tuum. 

"With what propriety can Dehlle, who was elected to the Aca- 
demy just thirty years before Napoleon was crowned, for literary 
distinction already acquired, who was the first poet of France 
before Napoleon was born, and who condescended to become 
Robespierre's poetaster and laureate before Napoleon had yet 
appeared at Toulon, but who happened to die at the age of 
eighty, two years before Napoleon's fall, be included in the ga- 
laxy of imperial literati ? The enthusiast has here fallen into a 
serious anachronism. 

With what propriety can Chateaubriand be included in this 
singular array? He was, indeed, contemporaneous with Napo- 
leon ; he was the most powerful writer of the epoch ; his " Genius 
of Christianity" obtained for him the title of the " Last Apostle." 
But he wrote either in voluntary exile from the Republic and the 
First Consulate, at Niagara, in the East and in England, or in 
forced banishment from the Empire. His first offence was the 
following sentence, written by him in 1807, in a review of Alex. 
de Laborde's " Travels in Spain," and published in the Mercure : 



MADAME DE STAEL. 211 

" It is in vain that Nero prospers : Tacitus is already born in 
the empire : he hves in obscurity by the ashes of Germanicus. 
He will unmask false virtue, and will show that the deified tyrant 
is naught but a buffoon, an incendiary and a parricide." 

Nero, in this philippic, stands for Napoleon ; Tacitus for La- 
borde, and Germanicus for Louis XVI. Napoleon suppressed the 
Mercure for this single sentence, and Chateaubriand lost the twenty 
thousand francs which he had invested in the journal. Napoleon 
said, on reading the passage just quoted : " Does Chateaubriand 
take me for a fool? Does he think I do not understand him.? 
If this continues, I will have him sabred on the steps of the Tui- 
leries!"^ 

Chateaubriand, the adversary of the Emperor, and the pro- 
scribed victim of his police, devotedly and hereditarily attached 
to the Bourbons, minister of state and peer of the realm under 
Louis XVIII. , belongs, not to the Empire, but to the Restora- 
tion. In preparing his list of the efficient and valid laborers of 
the pen, the enthusiast should not have included the octogenarian, 
the disaffected, the exile and the absentee. 

The assumption that Madame de Stael graced and illustrated 
Napoleon's reign by the exercise of her transcendent talents, is 
perhaps more curious than any of the instances thus far adduced. 
In the case of Chateaubriand, the author was merely expelled the 
country ; in that of Madame de Stael, not only was the writer 
exiled, but her productions were seized by the police, and their 
publication forbidden. They were subsequently issued in foreign 
lands, and even in foreign tongues, or were reserved for the Em- 
peror's fall. The enthusiast now claims that this literature, which 
his Majesty considered hostile and unpatriotic, and which to him 
was distasteful and repulsive, was one of the luminous points of 
a literary age. We shall have occasion to speak more fully, in 
another chapter, of Madame de Stael and of her literary career. 

The whole influence of Napoleon upon the letters of his reign 



212 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

was repressive in an eminent degree. In the first place, the epoch 
was too troubled, and the times were too unsettled, to allow that 
seclusion, that application and that composure, which alone per- 
mit any sustained mental effort. And in the second place, the 
rigorous conditions imposed on authors by Napoleon, the jealousy 
of the censorship exercised over their productions, and the suspi- 
cions and exactions of the police, rendered the pursuit of litera- 
ture at once dangerous and distasteful, and neither productive of 
wealth nor conducive to reputation. It will not be difficult to cite 
abundant proofs of these positions. 

Early in the Consulate, Bonaparte reorganized the Institute, 
which at that time consisted of five academies : those of Litera- 
ture, Science, Moral Philosophy, Ancient History and the Fine 
Arts. He suppressed the department of Moral Philosophy alto- 
gether, and inverted the order held by Literature and Science, 
making Science the first class and Literature the second. This 
was not so much in recognition of the very marked superiority of 
the scientific men of his time to the men of letters, as it was the 
consequence of his opinion that literature itself, as a pursuit and 
as an influence, was second to Science. " The First Consul was 
not sorry," says Bourrienne, " to testify the little esteem he felt 
for literary men. When he spoke to me of them, he called them 
makers of phrases. With few exceptions, I never knew a man so 
insensible to the beauties of either prose or poetry as Bonaparte." 
His love of the vague and the mysterious led him to admire 
Ossian, while at the same time his appreciation of what was direct 
and noble in conception, and fluent and manly in expression, made 
him a fervent partisan of Corneille. " Corneille and Ossian were 
his favorite authors. Beyond these writers, the finest productions 
of our literature were to him little more than an adroit arrange- 
ment of sonorous but unmeaning words, capable only of striking 
the ear."^ 

Napoleon's intercourse with, and treatment of, literary men, 



CHATEAUBRIAND. 213 

ofifer a multitude of incidents illustrative of the opinions which 
he held concerning them. Grouped together, they form a con- 
vincing and amusing commentary upon his views regarding an 
official and governmental literatu -e, and the aid it should lend the 
administration. Early in the year 1800, Madame Bacciochi 
begged Bonaparte to permit Chateaubriand to return to France, 
which he had quitted at the time of the emigration of the nobles. 
Shortly afterwards, Bourrienne expressed his surprise that no 
office had been given to a man so eminently fitted for public du- 
ties. " Oh," said Bonaparte, " the thing has been suggested to 
me, but I always reply in a manner that deters the applicant from 
returning to the subject. Chateaubriand has ideas of liberty and 
independence which would prevent his adopting my system as I 
understand it. I like him better as a known enemy than a forced 
friend. Still I will bear him in mind. I may try him in an infe- 
rior position, and if he succeeds, I will help him to advance." 

Upon the revival of public worship in France, Bonaparte 
made Cardinal Fesch, his uncle, ambassador to the court of Rome, 
and appointed Chateaubriand secretary to the legation. Chateau- 
briand wished to decline, but many influential members of the 
clergy insisted upon his acceptance, in the interest of religion. 
He was soon after made minister plenipotentiary to the Valais, 
and returned to Paris to prepare for his new mission. He dedi- 
cated, at this period, the second edition of the Genius of Christ- 
ianity to the First Consul. He went to bid adieu to Bonaparte 
on the morning of the 21st of March, 1804 ; the Due d'Bnghien 
had been shot four hours before in the moats of Vincennes. On 
leaving the palace, he heard of the fearful catastrophe, and at once 
sent in his resignation as minister plenipotentiary. This public 
and solemn rebuke, inflicted upon the sovereign by the first mind 
of the epoch, made nearly as much sensation in Europe as did the 
crime itself. Elisa Bonaparte with difficulty succeeded in calm- 
ing the wrath of her brother ; the friends of Chateaubriand called 
every morning at his house to make sure that he had not been 



214 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

molested during the night. This act of courage, unhappily, did 
not provoke emulation ; it remained without imitators, though 
not without approvers. "Why," said Josephine, "why is not 
Bonaparte surrounded with men of this character ; they would 
arrest him in the errors which the constant flattery of his present 
advisers only encourages him to commit."^ 

Chateaubriand was elected to the Institute in 1811, to fill 
the seat left vacant by the death of Ch^nier. The rules require 
that each new member pronounce the eulogium of his predeces- 
sor, and the public evinced deep interest in that to be made by a 
Bourbon upon a republican — an emigrant upon a regicide. The 
discourse, when ready for delivery, was submitted to Napoleon 
for approval ; after reading it, he exclaimed, "Had this oration 
been pronounced, I would have shut the gates of the Institute, and 
put M. de Chateaubriand in an under-ground cell for life."'^ The 
author refused to modify his language, though the manuscript 
was returned to him with passages marked by Napoleon in pen- 
cil for cancelling. He was immediately banished from Paris. 
Such were the relations between Napoleon and Chateaubriand. 

Delille's experience was somewhat different. In the first 
year of the Consulate, he published, at the age of seventy, his 
" G^orgiques Franpaises," of which fifteen editions passed speedily 
through the press. Bonaparte's police could not remain unmoved 
by so remarkable a literary success. It thumbed through the 
volume and fixed its suspicions upon the following lines : 

" Sans I'homme, dans I'univers, regne un muet efFroi, 
C'est un palais desert qui demande son roi." 

The evident meaning of the poet was that nature, the landscape, 
without man, was as a deserted palace calling for its king. The 
police, in the stupidity of its application, chose to regard the 
author as intending to hint that the deserted palace of the Tui- 
leries was clamorous for Louis XVIII ! It compelled Delille to 

1 Bour. T. 348. 2 Ibid. ix. 86. 



DELILLE AND CHENIER. 215 

substitute, in the subsequent editions, the following distich, hav- 
ing itself suggested the sentiment : 

" Les lieux les plus rians, sans I'homme, nous touchent peu ; 
C'est un temple desert qui demande son dieu." 

Here the figure being altered, the prefecture became tranquil. 
Nature was now merely a deserted temple calling for its god. 

Napoleon was said to be jealous of the glories of Delille, and 
to see with pain that Paris was as much interested in the author 
of the French Georgics as in the hero of Marengo. He commis- 
sioned Fontanes to endeavor to induce him to quit his retreat at 
Therapia, on the Black Sea, for a residence at Paris. The effort 
was unsuccessful, and Napoleon never obtained from the refrac- 
tory poet one single hexameter : he remained insensible to honors, 
riches and decorations. 

Bonaparte detested Chenier for his republicanism ; he removed 
him from his of&ce of inspector-general of the schools, for his 
Epistle to Voltaire, a measure which compelled the poet to sell 
his library.^ He disliked Ducis, who refused to accept either the 
title of Senator or the cross of the Legion of Honor, preferring, 
as he said, rags to chains. He descended so far as to bandy 
words with Laharpe, and charged him with dotage and second 
childhood in the Moniteur.^ He said of Bernardin de St. Pierre, 
whose Studies of Nature he had attempted to read : " How can 
people write such trash ! Nature, indeed ! What is nature ? 
Vague, void and insignificant. Man and the passions are the 
only themes worth treating of. Such writers are useless under 
any government. But I shall pension them, nevertheless, be- 
cause, as Chief of the State, I must : they occupy and amuse the 
idle."® "What," he exclaimed, on receiving from his sister 
Elisa, a copy of Chateaubriand's Atala, some months after its 
publication, "What, another romance in A ! Do you suppose I 
have the time to read all your nonsense?"* But on learning 

1 Salgues' Memoirs, vi. 406. 3 Bour. v. 247. 

2 Moniteur, 2Sth Feb. 18C2. J Ibid. 246. 



216 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

that it was by Chateaubriand, a fact which he did not know, he 
jjromised to read it. He noticed one of the ladies of his house- 
hold engaged in perusing Madame de Stael's "Germany," and, 
seizing the volume, he threw it into the fire. He feared and 
disliked the poet Lemercier, for his mild but inflexible republi- 
canism. He sought to win him to his cause, and sent him the 
decoration of the Legion of Honor, which Lemercier returned 
with a courteous but energetic refusal. "Lemercier," says Bour- 
rienne, " was not one of the poets who were in the habit of fre- 
quenting Fouche's house, to receive occasional gratuities of fifty 
or a hundred louis — a sum which did not always make two and 
sixpence per base action."^ 

Napoleon was, in 1804, at Aix-la-Chapelle, the capital of the 
emjjire of Charlemagne, the patron of art and science, and on the 
11th of September, he issued a decree, the object of which was 
to encourage the sciences, letters and arts. Twenty-two prizes 
were to be awarded every ten years to meritorious works produced 
during the interval, and the first award was to take place on the 
9th of November, 1810. The number of prizes was subsequently 
increased to thirty-five — nineteen of 10,000 francs each, and six- 
teen of 5,000. The following was the decision rendered by the 
jury, composed of the presidents and perpetual secretaries of the 
Institute : 

The prize for geometry and pure analysis was given to the 
Calcul des Ponctions, hj Lagrange. 

That for astronomy to the Mecanique Celeste, by Laplace. 

That for chemistry to the Statique Chimique, by BerthoUet. 

That for anatomy to the Le9ons d'Anatomie, by Cuvier. 

That for tragedy to the Templiers, by Raynouard. 

That for comedy was not awarded, though thirteen plays were 
presented. 

That for epic poetry was not awarded, though Delille's trans- 
lation of the JEneid and of Paradise Lost received an " honorable 
mention." 



ENCOURAGEMENT OF LITERATURE. 217 

That for didactic aud descriptive poetry was given to Delille's 
" Imagination." 

That for history was given to a History of Anarchy in Poland, 
while Sismondi's History of the Italian Republics obtained a mere 
honorable mention. This decision has been reversed by the ver- 
dict of posterity. 

That for biography was given to de Beausset's Life of Fen- 
elon. 

That for opera libretto was given to M. de Jouy, for La Vestale. 

That for opera composition to Spontini, for La Vestale. 

That for painting to Grirodet, for a Scene from the Deluge, now 
in the Grand Salon of the Louvre. 

That for sculpture to M. Chaudet, for his statue of Napoleon. 

That for architecture to Fontaine and Percier, for the Arc de 
Triomphe du Carrousel. 

These last five decisions were condemned by public opinion at 
the time, and the judgment of the half century which has since 
elapsed has sustained it in its opposition. 

The thirty-five prizes were never distributed, and the Empe- 
ror economized his 270,000 francs. Napoleon, who was dissatis- 
fied with the awards, and who, if not desirous, was at least in this 
case willing, to humiliate and degrade letters and the arts, said 
before the Council of State " that his object had been to furnish 
occupation to the public mind, and to prevent it from giving atten- 
tion to more important and serious matters." This singular con- 
duct cannot certainly be taken as a proof of Napoleon's respect 
for science and literature. The non-bestowal of the sums awarded 
gave rise to a shower of epigrams upon the discomfited competi- 
tors, the incompetent jury, and the refractory sovereign. 

On the 27th of September, 1807, the Moniteur published an 
imperial decree, destroying the liberty of the press, by assimilat- 
ing books to newspapers, and enacting that the former as well as 
the latter must receive the sanction of the censors before publica- 
tion. This, by virtually rendering the whole French press the 

28 



218 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

mouthpiece, and all French authors the exponents, of imperial 
necessities and of governmental opinions, annihilated literature as 
an honorable and influential profession. No thought that did not 
tally with the thoughts of the Emperor, no idea that did not serve 
to illustrate or enforce ideas conceived at the Tuileries, no opinion 
that did not harmonize with opinions entertained on the throne, 
could by any possibihty be laid before the public in print. The 
pohce of the press was active and ubiquitous, and its powers were 
exercised with jealous and unrelaxing vigilance. " The years of 
the empire," says Alison, " are an absolute blank in French hte- 
rary annals, in aU matters relating to government, political thought 
or moral sentiment. The joui'nals were filled with nothing but 
the exploits of the Emperor, the treatises by which he deigned to 
enhghten the minds of liis subjects in the affairs of state, or the 
adulatory addresses presented to him from aU parts of his domi- 
nions ; the pamphlets and periodicals of the metropolis breathed 
only the incense of refined flattery or the vanity of Eastern adu- 
lation. Talent in literature took no other direction than that 
pointed out by the imperial authorities ; genius sought to distin- 
guish itself only by new and more extravagant kinds of homage." ^ 

Men of letters who were willing to prostitute their opinions, 
or from any reason, honorable or otherwise, to attach themselves 
zealously to Napoleon's cause, were sure of recompense and ad- 
vancement. M. M0I6, the last representative of a family illustrious 
in the annals of legitimacy, wrote and published an apology for 
Napoleon's despotism, under the title of " Essais de Morale et de 
Politique." He was at once made Auditor of the Council of State, 
and obtained speedy promotion. Napoleon never wasted his sub- 
stance or his protection upon idlers or unproductive courtiers ; he 
bestowed his favors with discernment, requiring effective service 
at the hands of those who had received, or were candidates for, 
place, emolument, or preferment. 

"I have found the explanation," says Bourrienne, "of the 



NAPOLEON AND AUGUSTUS. 219 

Emperor's general hostility towards literary men. It was less 
the effect of prejudice than a necessity of his character. Time is 
required merely to read, and certainly to appreciate, a literary 
work, and, to Napoleon, time was so precious that he would have 
gladly shortened even a straight line. He therefore wished men 
to devote themselves to things at once positive and exact ; he de- 
tested economists, pubhcists, philanthropists — all, in short, who, 
directly or indirectly, occupied themselves with legislation, with 
pubhc institutions, or social ameliorations. His tendency towards 
the positive was so imperious, that even in the sciences he only 
liked what concerned the earth : he never treated Lalande, the 
astronomer, as he did Monge and Lagrange, the geometricians. 
The discoveries of the star-gazers could not directly add to his 
greatness."^ 

" You live too much," said Napoleon to Joseph, whom he was 
advising upon the subject of government, "with men of letters 
and savans. They are so many coquettes with whom it may be 
very well to maintain polite relations, but whom you should 
never think of making either your wife or your minister."^ 

" Literature," says one of the historians of the epoch, " asks 
from the powers of this earth naught but liberty and tranquillity : 
war startles it, tyranny destroys it. While a generous protec- 
tion hastens the maturity of the fruits of genius, an insolent and 
domineering patronage checks, if it does not arrest, their growth. 

' ' Augustus and Louis XIV. cherished letters and arts with an 
elevation of mind which was repaid by the production of master- 
pieces in every branch of elegant acquirement. 

" Domitian and Bonaparte exiled philosophers and Christians, 
and suborned and salaried such poets as would become syco- 
phants and hypocrites. The protectorate that Napoleon exer- 
cised over French literature was as fatal to it as his reign was 
fatal to the peace of Europe. 

"Let us not be unjust. He encouraged several of the arts 

1 Bour. V. 249. •' Thiers, Cons, et Empire, vii. 430. 



220 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

and exact sciences, because despotism neither fears paint nor 
geometry. But all noble bursts of thought, the generous intre- 
pidity of the philosopher, the austere impartiality of the histo- 
rian, which were odiously distasteful to him, were rigorously 
suppressed. 

" It would be curious to investigate the manner and the gra- 
dations by which he succeeded in quenching the genius of his age, 
and in corrupting the authors who illustrated his reign. They 
did not all yield without resistance, while several, it is our duty 
to admit, fell with honor and credit."^ 

Madame de Stael thus launches her invectives at the restric- 
tive system of the period : " When the censors of the press, not 
confining themselves to erasing, dictate to writers of every de- 
scription the opinions they are to advance on every subject of 
politics, religion and morals, it may be conceived into what state 
a nation must fall which has no other nutriment for its thoughts 
than such as a despotic authority permits. It is not surprising, 
therefore, that French Uterature and criticism descended to the 
lowest point during the Empire. The newspapers discovered 
the art of being tame and Hfeless at the epoch of the world's 
overturn ; and but for the official bulletins which from time to 
time let us know that half the world was conquered, we might 
have believed that the age was one only of roses and flowers."^ 

"Bonaparte, who aspired to despotism," says Lamartine, "and 
who hated thoi;ght because thought is the liberty of the soul, pro- 
fited by the exhaustion and the lassitude of the human mind at 
the close of the Revolution, to muzzle or enervate every species 
of literature. Of the human faculties he only honored those of 
which he could make docile instruments. Geometricians were 
men after his own heart ; writers made him tremble ! It was the 
age of the compasses. He tolerated only that trifling and futile 
literature which diverts the people and flatters tyranny. He 
would have gagged with his whole police any voice whose manly 

1 Michaud, Hist, de Napnl^on Bonaparte, ii. 204. ! Riv. Prangaise, ii. 877. 



NAPOLEON JUSTIFIED. 221 

accent caused to vibrate the deeper chords of the human heart. 
He permitted the rhymes which occupy the ear, but he pro- 
scribed the poesy which exalts the soul."^ 

" He curses written or spoken thought, as a revolt of reason 
against fact. He imposes silence upon the tribune, the censure 
upon journalism, the stamp upon books, and terror or adulation 
upon authors. He stops the mouth of him who ventures the 
slightest murmur of a theory. He exiles all who will not sell 
their breath or their pen. He honors no science but that science 
which does not think : mathematics. He would suppress the al- 
phabet, had he the power, and make men communicate by figures, 
because letters express the human soul, while figures express ma- 
terial force." ^ 

The most satisfactory justification of the conduct of Napoleon 
towards literary men was offered by M. Thiers, in his reception 
discourse at the French Academy, soon after the accession of 
Louis Philippe. He said: "A pacific government may tolerate 
what a government illustrated by victory cannot tolerate. And 
why ? Because liberty, quite possible to-day, upon the heels of 
a bloodless revolution, was impossible then, upon the heels of a 
sanguinary revolution. 

"The men of that time had fearful truths to say to each 
other. They had shed each other's blood ; they had reciprocally 
despoiled each other ; many had borne arms against their coun- 
try. These men could hardly be free to speak and write without 
mutually bandying bitter reproaches. Liberty would have been 
but an exchange of savage recriminations. Napoleon was unwil- 
ling that one man should say to another, ' You slaughtered my 
father or my son ; you have appropriated my property ; you 
joined the ranks of the enemy.' He gave to civil dissension the 
distractions of war ; he condemned to the silence in which they 
expired the disastrous passions it was so essential to extinguish. 
But to-day, liberty is compatible with safety, because we, the 

1 Hist, de la Eestauration, ii. 893. ' Ibid. i. 894. 



222 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

men of the present, though we may reproach ourselves with 
errors, need not charge ourselves with crimes." 

In view of the facts we have adduced in reference to the au- 
thors claimed as shedding glory upon N"apoleon's reign, and of the 
opinions we have cited upon his estimate and appreciation of lite- 
rature, any further attempt to magnify the letters of the imperial 
era would seem a useless and a thankless task. The literature 
that illustrates and honors an epoch can hardly consist of anterior 
romance and verse, of subsequent and hostile essay and criticism, 
or of chefs-d'oeuvre conceived in vagabondage, composed in exile, 
and either published by stealth or suppressed by force. A sove- 
reign that thus treats authorship and thus oppresses genius, would 
hardly be gratified by the posthumous apologies presented by his 
partisans, however historical it may be that he offered citizenship 
to literary foreigners, and regretted that Oorneille was not con- 
temporaneous instead of classic. 

It is curious to see this blockade of literature and this suspi- 
cion of the arts, renewed under the present Napoleon, the Third 
of his name. Without referring to the exile of Victor Hugo, the . 
first living French writer — a measure for which sufficient political 
grounds may possibly be invoked — it may safely be said that 
every successive death in France of men great in the arts, sciences, 
philosophy, finds the government in dread of rebellion and dis- 
turbance at their funerals. It invariably appears that the de- 
ceased, if sufficiently distinguished to excite a national interest 
and to kindle general sympathy, had lived apart from the existing 
regime, and that the people, the students, the masses, labor and 
Young France, desire to extend processional honors to their re- 
mains. Under Louis Napoleon the great dead are buried by 
stealth, or under a cloud, or in the apprehension of revolt. Mi- 
chel de Bourges, the first orator in his hold upon the popular 
sympathies in France, after the exile of Victor Hugo, was interred 
early in the morning, by orders from Paris, and in the presence 
of formidable preparations for defense. The road to the church 



LITERATURE UNDER NAPOLEON III. 223 

was commanded by cannon ; a specified number of persons only 
were admitted to the cemetery ; no discourses were allowed over 
the grave. Arago, the first savant of France, and certainly the 
second, if not the first, of his age, was buried in the midst of an 
array of troops, a concourse of citizens and a gathering of police, 
which suggested an encampment and the state of siege. Cart- 
ridges had been distributed and passwords whispered, for the 
director of the Observatory had declined the oath of allegiance. 
Lamennais, the free-thinker, was buried by surprise : the people 
were to collect at nine ; his body was smuggled to the Potter's 
Field, by a strong posse of police, at early dawn. David d'An- 
gers, one of the two master sculptors of the early part of this cen- 
tury, was accompanied to his last resting-place by all the students 
in Paris, and as the funeral was thus a republican one, the govern- 
ment was on the alert. In short, the people of Paris, when they 
wish to count their numbers and to show their hand, select as the 
occasion of their assembly and the nucleus of their throng, some 
illustrious funeral — some hearse bearing immortal ashes. Between 
them and the dead there is always a bond of sympathy ; while 
between the dead and the myrmidons of the government exist 
suspicion, hostility, reproach. 

When Beranger dies, the drums of the garrison of Paris will 
beat to arms ; the posts of Yincennes and Versailles will be held 
in readiness for sudden duty ; the National Guard will be sum- 
moned to quarters ; the poUce will be detailed as for dangerous 
and responsible service. The veteran chanticleer may expect 
tumultuous obsequies : possessing more than any other living man 
the afi'ections and sympathies of the nation, his death will natu- 
rally be the object, above all others, of the fears and the distrust 
of the government. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Madame de Stael — Her Infancy and Education — Her Marriage— Her Personal Appearance — 
The Revolution — Her First Meeting and Conversation with Bonaparte — Interview with 
Josephine — Her Portrait and Character — Her Repartees — Exile — Delphine — Augusta de Stael 
and Napoleon — Private Theatricals — Corinne — PoUce Interference — Travels in Foreign Coun- 
tries — Her Illness and Death — Effect of Napoleon's Persecution upon the Literary Position 
of Madame de Stael. 

JACQUES NBOKBR, the father of Madame de Stael, a Gene- 
vese and a Protestant, was at the birth of his daughter Anne- 
Louise-Germaine Necker, in 1766, a clerk in a banking-house at 
Paris. He had married M'lle Curchod, a Swiss like himself, and 
who had, some years before, been the object of the first and last 
love of Gibbon the historian. Madame Necker undertook the 
education of Louise, plied her with books and tasks, and intro- 
duced her, even in infancy, to her own circle of brilliant and 
accomplished men. " At the age of eleven," writes a lady who 
was at the time her companion, " she spoke with a warmth and 
facility which were already eloquent. In society she talked but 
little, but so animated was her face that she appeared to converse 
with all. Every guest at her mother's house addressed her with 
some compHment or polite speech ; she replied with ease and 
grace." She was encouraged to write, and her youthful produc- 
tions were read in public, and some of them were even printed. 
This process of education, while it rendered the subject of it 
rather brilliant than profound, and encouraged vanity and a love 
of display, broke down her health, and the physicians ordered her 
to retire to the country, and to renounce all mental apphcation. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 225 

Her mother, disappointed and discouraged, ceased to take the same 
interest in her talents and progress ; this indiflference led Louise 
to attach herself more closely to her father, and developed in her 
what became through life her ruling passion — filial affection. 

In 1776, Necker, who had in the meantime become the partner 
of his late employer, and had attracted attention by an essay on the 
corn laws, was considered by the masses as the only person capa- 
ble of saving the country from bankruptcy. He was, therefore, 
appointed to the control of the finances, being the first Protestant 
who had held ofi&ce since the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. 
One of his acts, five years aftei'wards, having excited clamor among 
the royalists, an anonymous pamphlet appeared, in which his de- 
fense was warmly espoused and the propriety of his conduct suc- 
cessfully asserted. Necker detected his daughter's style in this 
production, and she acknowledged its authorship, being then fif- 
teen years old. Necker resigned office, and retreated with his 
family to Coppet, on the borders of the Lake of Geneva. 

Madame de Q-eiilis saw M'Ue JSTecker for the first time, when the 
latter was sixteen. She thus speaks of Tier in her memoii's : " This 
3^oung lady was not pretty ; her manner was very animated, and 
she talked a great deal, too much indeed, though always with wit 
and discernment. I remember that I read one of my juvenile 
plays to Madame Keeker, her daughter being present. I cannot 
describe the enthusiasm and the demonstrations of M'Ue Louise, 
while I was reading. She wept, she uttered exclamations at every 
page, and constantly kissed my hands. Her mother had done 
wrong in allowing her to pass three-quarters of her time with the 
throng of wits who continually surrounded her, and who held dis- 
sertations with her upon love and the passions." -^ 

At the age of twenty, Louise married Baron de Stael-Holstein, 
the Swedish ambassador at the court of France. She sought nei- 
ther a lover nor a friend in her husband ; she treated marriage as 
a convenience, and became a wife in order to obtain that liberty 

I Mem. de Madame de Geiiliy, 92. 

29 



226 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

and independence whicli was denied her as a young lady. She 
required that her husband should be noble and a Protestant, and 
as in addition to these essentials, Baron de Stael was an agreeable 
and an honorable man, and engaged never to compel her to follow 
him to Sweden, she consented to marry him. In the same year, 
1786, a failure of the crops, and the consequent distress of the 
poorer classes, compelled the king to recall Necker to the admi- 
nistration of the finances. 

Madame de Stael is thus described, at the age of twenty -five, 
by a writer who, to justify the peculiar and oriental extravagance 
of his style, assumed the character of a Greek poet : " Zulme ad- 
vances ; her large dark eyes sparkle with genius ; her hair, black 
as ebony, falls on her shoulders in waving ringlets ; her features 
are more striking than delicate, and express superiority to her 
sex. 'There she is,' all exclaim when she appears, and at once 
become breathless. When she sings, she extemporizes the words 
of her song, the ecstasy of improvisation animates her face, and 
holds the audience in rapt attention. When the song ceases, she 
talks of the great truths of nature, the immortality of the soul, 
the love of liberty, of the fascination and danger of the passions. 
Her features meanwhile wear an expression superior to beauty ; 
her physiognomy is full of play and variety. When she ceases, 
a murmur of approbation thrills through the room ; she looks 
down modestly ; her long lashes sink over her flashing eyes, and 
the sun is clouded over." 

The Revolution now advanced with rapid steps. Necker, 
whose capabilities as a financier have been generally acknow- 
ledged, was totally deficient in the higher qualities of the states- 
man. He sought to assume a middle position between the court 
and the people, but failing of success, was in consequence dis- 
missed on the 11th of July, 1789. Paris rose in insurrection 
when this event became known, and on the 14th, the Bastille was 
in the hands of the people. The king was forced to send an order 
of recall to Necker, who had left the country : this overtook him 



THE AMBASSADRESS OF SWEDEN. 227 

at Frankfort. "What a period of happiness," writes Madame de 
Stael, " was our journey back to Paris ! I do not believe that a 
similar ovation was ever extended to a man not the sovereign of 
the country. Women, afar off in the fields, threw themselves on 
their knees, as the carriage passed : the most prominent citizens 
acted as postillions, and in many towns the people detached the 
horses and dragged the carriage themselves. Oh, nothing can 
equal the emotions of a woman who hears the name of a beloved 
parent repeated with eulogy by a whole people !" This triumph 
was of short duration. In a little more than a year, Necker, who 
had opposed some of the more radical measures of reform in the 
National Assembly, lost the confidence of the people, resigned, 
and again withdrew to Switzerland. He was now accompanied 
by the revilings and maledictions of the populace, and even nar- 
rowly escaped with his life. 

Madame de Stael remained at Paris, and speedily became in- 
volved in the intrigues of the day. Her salon was the rendez- 
vous of the royalists and Girondins, and the scene of ardent 
political discussions. In the midst of the sanguinary excesses of 
'92, she fearlessly used her influence to shelter and save her 
friends. She took them to her own house, which, being the resi- 
dence of an ambassador, she presumed would be inviolable. But 
one night the police appeared at the gate, and required that the 
doors be opened for a rigid search. Madame de Stael met them 
at the threshold, spoke to them of the rights of ambassadors and 
of the vengeance of Sweden, and by dint of wit, argument and 
intrepidity, persuaded them to abandon their designs. She was 
soon compelled to flee, however, and take refuge with her father 
at Coppet. Here she wrote and published an appeal in behalf of 
Marie Antoinette, and "Reflections on the Peace of 1783." The 
fall of Robespierre, in July, 1794, enabled her to return to Paris, 
whither she hastened, upon the news of his execution. 

Her residence in the capital formed an event in the annals of 
society at that period. The most distinguished foreigners and 



228 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

the best men in Prance flocked around her. She gave her influ- 
ence to the government of the Directory, being desirous of the 
establishment of some guarantee for the preservation of order 
and of individual security. 

" Madame de Stael," says de Goncourt, " was a man of genius 
as early as the year 1795. It was by her hands that France signed 
a treaty of aUiance with existing institutions, and for a period 
accepted the Directory. Who obtained her the victory? Her- 
self, with the aid of a friend who was the scribe of her dictation, 
the aid-de-camp and the notary-public of her thought, Benjamin 
Constant. The daughter of Necker forbade France to recall its 
line of kings : she retained the republic : she condemned the 
throne. She agitated victoriously in behalf of the maintenance of 
the representative system. The human right of victory was 
equivalent, with her, to the divine right of birth." -^ 

The appearance of Bonaparte upon the stage of action pro- 
duced a violent change in her life, pursuits and pleasures. She 
disliked and distrusted him from the first, and her drawing-room 
became an opposition club, or, as Napoleon himself described it, 
an arsenal of hostilit3^ He, in turn, was vexed at her intellec- 
tual supremacy, and dreaded her influence. They first met at a 
ball given to Josephine, towards the close of the year 1797. She 
had long hunted him from place to place, for she was desirous of 
subjecting him, if possible, to the fascinations of her conversa- 
tion, and he, avoiding the interview with consummate address, 
had always escaped her importunities. At the ball in question, 
he saw retreat to be impossible, and boldly seated himself in a 
vacant chair by her side. The followirig conversation, attributed 
to them, contains, in a concise form, the best of the authenti- 
cated sallies and repartees perpetrated by the illustrious inter- 
locutors. After the usual prehminaries, the dialogue proceeded 
thus : 

Madame de Stael. Madame Bonaparte is a charming lady. 

1 Soc, Pranj. snus le Directoire, 298. 



A SPIRITED CONVERSATION. 229 

Bonaparte. Any compliment passing through your hps, ma- 
dame, acquires additional value. 

St. Ah ! then you appreciate my opinion and my approba- 
tion ? But you have doubted my capacity, you have thought me 
frivolous ; nevertheless, my studies in diplomacy, in the history 
of courts — 

Bon. I implore Madame de Stael not to drag the Graces to 
the pillory of politics. 

St. I assure you. General, that your mythological compli- 
ment is totally lost upon me : I should prefer that you judge me 
worthy to talk reason with you. 

Bon. The right of your sex is to make us lose our reason : 
do not despise so excellent a privilege. 

St. General, I beg of you not to play with me as with a doll : 
I desire to be treated as a man. 

BoN. Then you would hke to have me put on petticoats. 

St. — TO A GENTLEMAN INTERRUPTING HER. — Sir, be good enough 
to understand that I desire no assistance, though certainly my 
adversary is sufficiently powerful to render assistance necessary. 

BoN. Madame, it was to my aid that he was coming ; my 
danger appalls him, and he was seeking to relieve me. 

St. In any case, I owe him small thanks for his tardy aid, 
since you confess that my victory seemed certain. He is a true 
friend, however ; he stands by those he likes, even in their ab- 
sence, when, usually, friendship slumbers. 

Bon. In that friendship imitates its cousin — love. 

St. — NERVING HERSELF FOR AN EFFORT. — By what means. Gen- 
eral, can an ordinary woman, without literary reputation, without 
superior genius, be sustained in the affection of a man she loves 
when separated from him by distance or a period of years ? Mem- 
ory, reduced to recalling her charms only, becomes gradually dim, 
and at last forgets, especially when the lover is a great man. But 
when the latter has had the good fortune to meet with a strong- 
minded woman, one worthy of sharing his laurels and herself 



230 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

enjoying a high reputation, then the distance of time and space 
disappears, for it is the renown of both which serves as messenger 
between them, and it is through the hundred mouths of fame that 
each receives intelhgence of the otiier. 

Bon. Madame, in what chapter of the work you are about 
to publish shall we read this brilliant passage ? 

St. It has been the constant illusion of my soul. 

Bon. Ah, I understand ; it is your hobby, after the manner 
of Sterne. So you are seeking the philosopher's stone ? 

St. One would think, to hear you talk, that it is impossible 
to find it. 

Bon. There are two illusions in this world, though both flow 
from the same error ; that of physical and that of moral alchemy. 
This idealistic philosophy leads to an abyss. 

St. One, nevertheless, which wit and sagacity may illumine 
with the rays of genius to its inmost recesses. Do you never 
build castles in the air. General ? Do you never go and dwell in 
them? Do you never dream, to charm away the monotony of 
life ? 

Bon. I leave dreams to sleep, and retain reason for my wak- 
ing hours. 

St. Then you can never be either amused or surprised? 
You have a scouting party stationed to watch that outpost, the 
imagination ? 

BoN. Wisdom counsels me to do so, and makes it my duty. 

St. — after a moment's reflection.— General, who, in your 
opinion, is the greatest of women ? 

Bon. She who bears the most children.^ 

Madame de Stael turned slightly pale at this reply, and said 
no more. The General rose, bowed, and quitted the room. Both 
carried away from the interview the elements of mutual dislike and 
food for a life-long hostility. " Doubtless," says Lacretelle, " this 
last question was suggested by the vanity of the inquirer." And 

1 Napol6on et ses Contemporaiiis, i. 229. 



MADAME DE STAEL AND JOSEPHINE. 231 

Bonaparte, eager to deprive the lady of the tribute she expected 
in his reply, made answer as we have described. " Certainly," 
adds Lacretelle, "it was impossible to rebuff a courtesy with 
greater rudeness and less discernment, for Madame de Stael was 
one of the powers of the day."-^ 

One evening, early in the Consulate, Josephine met Madame 
de Stael at the house of Madame de Montesson. Bonaparte was 
to come somewhat later. Josephine, knowing his aversion for 
her, or fearing her seductions if she were successful in obtaining 
his attention, received her, as she advanced, in a manner so 
markedly cold, if not rude, that Madame de Stael recoiled without 
speaking, and retreated to the extremity of the room, where she 
dropped into a chair. 

She remained for some time apart and alone. The pretty 
women took a malicious pleasure in the mortification of one of 
their own sex, while the gentlemen indulged in impertinent and 
unmanly remarks. At this moment, a young girl of extreme 
beauty and light airy step, with blond hair and blue eyes, and 
dressed entirely in white, left the group that had collected in the 
vicinity of Josephine, crossed the salon, and sat down by Madame 
de Stael. The latter, whose heart Was as quick as her wit was 
ready, said to her, ' ' You are as good as you are beautiful, my 
child." 

"In what, pray, madame?" asked the young lady. 

" In what?" returned Madame de Stael. " You ask me why 
I think you as kind as you are fair ? Because you crossed this 
immense and deserted salon to come and sit by me. Upon my 
word, you are more courageous than I should have been." 

"And yet, madame, I am naturally so timid that I should not 
dare to tell you my fears and trepidation : you would laugh at 
me, I am sure." 

"Laugh at you!" exclaimed Madame de Stael, with moist- 
ened eyes and trembling voice ; "laugh at you! never! never! 

' Lac. Rev. Frangaise, ii. 140. 



232 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

I am your sister, henceforth, my dear, dear young friend ! Will 
you tell me your Christian name ?" 

" Delphine, madame." 

" Delphine ! What a pretty name ! I am very glad of it, for 
it will suit my purpose exactly. You must know, love, that I 
am writing a novel ; and I mean it to bear your name. You 
shall be its god-mother ; and you will find something in it which 
will remind you of to-day and of our acquaintance." 

Madame de Stael kept her promise, and the passage in the 
novel of Delphine, in which the heroine, abandoned, is, under simi- 
lar circumstances, relieved and sustained by Madame de R., was 
written in commemoration of this little domestic scene.^ 

Bonaparte soon entei'ed the room, and, ignorant of the treat- 
ment Madame de Stael had undergone from Josephine, accosted 
her graciously, and indeed took evident pains to restrain, during 
their conversation, his intuitive dislike of the petticoat politician. 

Madame de Stael was now at the apogee of her talent and 
influence. Her conversation was not what is usually understood 
by the term. She did not require so much an interlocutor as a 
listener. Her improvisations were long and sustained pleas, if 
her object was to convince, or discursive though brilliant har- 
angues, if she sought to display her wealth of thought and of 
words. Those that were accustomed to her ways rarely answered 
her, even if, in the heat of argument, she addressed them a ques- 
tion ; well aware that it was rather to operate a diversion than 
to elicit a reply. She required the excitement of an audience, 
and her eloquence became richer and more rapid as the circle of 
her listeners widened. She preferred contradiction and dissent 
to a blind acceptance of her opinions, and the surest method of 
pleasing her was to adduce arguments that she might refute them, 
and which might suggest in her mind new trains of ideas. Con- 
troversy was her pecuhar element, and she sometimes resorted to 
the charlatanical process of advocating two opposite opinions on 

1 Vide " Delphine," vol. ii. p. 886. 




Drawn byJ Chair.patiiie 



M"'!- BE Sf /ilL 



POETRAIT OF MADAME DE STAEL. 233 

the same occasion, in order to show the flexibility of her mind and 
the pliancy of her logic. In the season of foliage, she invariably 
carried in her hand a twig of poplar, which, when talking, she 
would turn and twist between her fingers ; the crackling of this, 
she said, stimulated her brain. During the season when the pop- 
lar produces no leaves, she substituted for the twig a piece of 
rolled paper with which she was forced to be content, till the 
return of verdure. In winter, her flatterers and admirers always 
held a supply of these papers prepared, and presented her a 
quantity, on her arrival at a f§te or a conversazione, that she 
might select her sceptre for the evening.^ The famous twig of 
poplar is introduced in Gerard's portrait of Madame de Stael.* 

She was never handsome, and without the extraordinary depth 
and brilliancy of her eyes, would have been a plain, if not an ugly 
woman. Her nose and mouth were homely, and only redeemed 
by her ever-varying expression. Her complexion was rough, her 
form massive rather than graceful, and indicated indolence rather 
than vivacity. Her hands were beautiful, and ill-natured people 
asserted that the poplar twig was a mere pretext for keeping them 
constantly in view. She dressed at all times without taste, and 
this defect became more conspicuous as she advanced in years, for 
at the age of forty-five she wore the colors and ornaments which 
would befit a young lady of twenty. Her coiffure was usually a 
turban, though this was not the prevailing fashion. Her partisans 
denied that there was any exaggeration in her toilet, though they 
allowed that she sought to be picturesque rather than fashionable. 

Biography has preserved examples almost innumerable of the 
readiness of her wit and the profundity of her observation. The 
love of truth was one of her prominent characteristics. " I saw," 
she said, ' ' that Bonaparte was declining, when he no longer sought 
for the truth." She held long arguments on equality, and said 
on one occasion, ' ' I would not refuse the opinion of the lowest of 

I Ducrest, M6m. de Josephine, 23. 

* It is from a copy of this portrait, by G6rard, in the Historical Gallery of Versailles, that the likeness of 
Madame de Stael on the opposite page is taken. 

30 



234 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

my domestics, if the slightest of my own impressions tended to 
justify his." Her respect for justice and moderation was evinced 
in her reply to the remark of a Bourbon after Napoleon's fall, to 
the effect that Bonaparte had neither talent nor courage : " It is 
degrading France and Europe too much, sir, to pretend that for 
fifteen years they have been subject to a simpleton and a pol- 
troon!" She despised affectation, and said that she could not 
converse with an affected man or woman on account of the con- 
stant interruptions of a tedious third person — their unnatural and 
affected character. Of individuals accustomed to exaggerate, she 
said : "To put 100 for 10, why, there's no imagination in that." 
Her faith was sincere and unostentatious, and she would remark, 
after listening to lofty metaphysical discourses, " Well, I like the 
Lord's Prayer better than that." One of her best replies was 
made to Canning, in the Tuileries, after the exile of Napoleon : 
"Well, Madame de Stael, we have conquered you French, you 
see!" " If you have, sir, it was because you had the Russians 
and the whole continent on your side. Give us a t8te-a-t§te, and 
you will see !" 

Madame de Stael's conduct as a wife was not irreproachable. 
Talleyrand was one of the first, though by no means the last, of 
her lovers. It was after his rupture with Madame de Stael that 
he entered upon his liaison with Madame Grandt, and it was this 
circumstance that led Madame de Stael to ask him the most 
unfortunate question of her life, for it gave him the opportunity 
of making the most comprehensive reply of his : " If Madame 
Grandt and I were to fall into the water, Talleyrand," she in- 
quired, "which of us would you save first?" " Oh, madame," 
returned the minister, " you swim SO well!" She was revenged 
on him by drawing — though not very delicately — his character 
as a diplomatist : " He is so double-faced," she said, " that if you 
kick him behind, he wiU smile in front." 

Bonaparte, early in the Consulate, sought, through his brother 
Joseph, to attach Madame de Stael to his government ; he might 



DELPHINE. 235 

have done so, had he cared to concUiate her by expressing, or even 
feigning, deference to her talents and opinions. But he did not 
pursue the negotiation, and she continued her poHtical discussions 
at her house, devoting her days to intrigues, and her evenings to 
epigrams ; until Bonaparte, whose patience was exhausted, and 
who did not consider his power as yet fully established, directed 
his minister of police to banish her from Paris. She was ordered 
not to return within forty leagues of the city. He is said to have 
remarked, " I leave the whole world open to Madame de Stael, 
except Paris ; that I reserve to myself." It was urged, too, that 
she had small claims to consideration ; she was, though born in 
France, hardly a Frenchwoman, being the daughter of a Swiss 
and the wife of a Swede. 

During a period of years, Madame de Stael remained under 
the ban of Bonaparte's displeasure, though, during a short interval, 
the intercessions of her father obtained permission for her to in- 
habit the capital. In 1803, she published her " Delphine," a work 
so immoral in its tendency that it incurred the censure of the cri- 
tics and the public, and compelled the authoress to put forth a 
species of apology, which in its turn was considered lame and in- 
conclusive. The character of Madame de Vernon, in " Delphine," 
was said to have been intended for Talleyrand, clothed in female 
garb. 

Unable to endure the deprivation of her Parisian friends, 
Madame de Stael soon established herself at the distance of thirty 
miles from Paris. Bonaparte was told that her residence was 
crowded with visitors from the capital. " She affects," he said, 
' ' to speak neither of public affairs nor of me ; yet it invariably 
happens that every one comes out of her house less attached to 
me than when he went in." An order for her departure was soon 
served upon her, and she set forth upon a pilgrimage through 
Germany. 

In the last week of December, 1807, Napoleon, returning from 
Italy, stopped at the post-house of Chamb^ry, in Sardinia, for 



236 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

a fresh relay of horses. He was told that a young man of seven- 
teen years, named Auguste de Stael, desired to speak with him. 
" What have I to do with these refugees of Geneva ?" said Napo- 
leon, tartly. He ordered him to be admitted, however. " Where 
is your mother ?" said iN'apoleon, opening the conversation. " She 
is at Vienna, sire." "Ah, she must be satisfied now ; she will 
have fine opportunities for learning German." " Sire, your Ma- 
jesty cannot suppose that my mother can be satisfied anywhere, 
separated from her fiiends and diiven from her country. If your 
Majesty would condescend to glance at these private letters, writ- 
ten by my mother, you would see, sire, what unhappiness her 
exile causes her." " Oh, pooh! that's the way with your mo- 
ther. I do not say she is a bad woman ; but her mind is insub- 
ordinate and rebeUious. She was brought up in the chaos of a 
falling monarchy, and of a revolution running riot, and it has 
turned her head. If I were to allow her to return, six months 
would not pass before I should be obhged to shut her up in Bed- 
lam, or put her under lock and key at the Temple. I should be 
sorry to do it, for it would make scandal, and injure me in public 
opinion. TeU your mother my mind is made up. As long as I 
live, she shall not again set foot in Paris." 

" Sire, I am so sure that my mother would conduct herself 
with propriety that I pray you to grant her a trial, if it be only 
for six weeks." "It cannot be. She would make herself the 
standard-bearer of the faubourg St. Germain. She would receive 
visits, would return them, would make witticisms, and do a thou- 
sand follies. ISTo, young man, no." " WiU your Majesty aUow a 
son to inquire the cause of this hostility to his mother ? I have 
been told it was the last work of my grandfather ; I can assure 
your Majesty that my mother had no hand in it." " Certainly, 
that book had its effect. Tour grandfather was an idealist, an 
old maniac ; at sixty years of age, to attempt to overturn my 
constitution and to replace it by one of his ! An economist, 
indeed ! A man who dreams financial schemes and could hardlv 



AUGUSTE DE STAEL. 237 

perform the duties of a village tax-gatherer decently ! Robespierre 
and Danton have done less harm to France than M. Necker. 
Your grandfather is the cause of the saturnalia which have deso- 
lated France. Upon his head be all the blood of the Revolution !'' 
"Sire, I trust that posterity will speak more favorably of. him. 
During his administration, he was compared with Sully and Col- 
bei-t, and I trust to the justice of posterity." "Posterity wUl 
perhaps not speak of him at all," returned Napoleon. 

"You are young, M. de Stael," he added, changing his tone, 
and taking the petitioner familiarly by the ear. "Your frank- 
ness pleases me : I like to see a son plead the cause of his mo- 
ther. She confided to you a difficult mission, and you have dis- 
charged it with intelligence. I cannot give you false hopes, so I 
do not conceal from you that you will obtain nothing whatever. 
I'D. have none of your mother in the city where I dwell. Women 
should knit stockings, and not talk politics." As Napoleon rode 
away from Chambery, he said to Duroc : "Was I not rather hard 
with that young man ? After all, I am glad of it. The thing is 
settled once for all. France is no place for the family of JSTecker."* 

During the absence of Madame de Stael in Germany, her fa- 
ther died, and she hastened to return to Coppet. She collected 
and published his writings, and appended to them a biographical 
memoir. She cherished his memory with a passion bordering on 
monomania, which led her, whenever she saw an old man in afflic- 
tion, to seek to alleviate his sorrows. She often said, upon hear- 
ing good news, "I owe this to the intercessions of my father." 

She found it difficult satisfactorily to occupy her leisure. She 
used to say that she would prefer living on two thousand francs 
a year in the Rue Jean Pain Mollet at Paris, to spending one 
hundred thousand at Geneva. But she made no effort to obtain 
a recall, at least by imposing restraint upon her tongue. Know- 
ing that she was surrounded by spies, and that her bitter allu- 
sions to Napoleon were reported at the Tuileries, she continued 



238 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

to exhaust her wit upon the acts of his government, and upon 
the tyranny of him whom she called "Robespierre on horseback." 

Amateur theatricals upon a diminutive stage built for the 
purpose, afforded some amusement to the exile of Coppet. The 
audiences were principally French residents at Geneva, whose 
ambition to be able to boast of their admission into Madame de 
Stael's intimacy, induced them to travel the wearisome road which 
separated the two places. While waiting for the lamps to be 
lighted, they ate bread and chocolate in the dark — this being the 
traditional lunch that a Frenchman carries in his pocket. On one 
occasion the performance was Racine's tragedy of Andromaque. 
Madame de Stael played Hermione effectively, it would seem, 
but with a redundancy of gesture that somewhat marred the 
illusion. Madame Recamier acted Andromaque, the interesting 
widow ; but the critics were so absorbed in the contemplation of 
her wondrous beauty that they have left little record of her his- 
trionic ability. The characters of Oreste, Pylade and Pyrrhus 
were performed by M. de Lab^doyfere, Benjamin Constant and 
Sismondi, the historian. The two latter were very amusing, it 
appears, though the play being a tragedy, mirth could hardly 
have been the effect they desired to produce. Benjamin Constant, 
whose gestures were very broad and sweeping, once carried away 
a Grecian temple with the palm of his hand ; Sismondi gave infinite 
zest to the representation by the purity of his Genevese accent. 
The prompter was M. Schlegel, the poet, critic and historian. 
His strong German pronunciation rendered him at best an ineffi- 
cient assistant, for the actor whose memory was treacherous often 
failed to recognize the missing line, in the husky and guttural 
suggestions of the author of Lucinde. 

The health of Madame de Stael was now dechning, and in 
order to recruit it she undertook a journey through Italy. On 
her return, she published "Corinne," a poetic description of the 
peninsula, in the form of a novel. Though deficient in construc- 
tion and dramatic power, it possesses the highest merit as a work 



CORINNE. 239 

delineating cliaracter and descriptive of scenery, and inculcates a 
pure morality. Incident and plot form its least attractive fea- 
tures ; its eloquent rhapsodies upon love, religion, virtue, nature, 
history and poetry, have given it an enduring place in literature. 
She now took up her abode at the required distance from Paris, at 
Chaumont-sur-Loire, where she inhabited the chateau already fa- 
mous as the residence of Diane de Poitiers, Catherine de Medicis, 
and Nostradamus the soothsayer, and at this time in the possession 
of one of her most attached friends. She here wrote and prepared 
for the press a work on the habits, character and literature of the 
Germans. The manuscript was laid before the censors at Paris, 
who expunged certain jjassages, and then authorized its publica- 
tion. This was in 1810. 

Ten thousand copies had been already printed, when the 
whole edition was seized at the publishers', by gendarmes sent by 
Savary, the minister of police. Madame de Stael was ordered to 
quit France in eight days. She withdrew again to Coppet, from 
whence she opened a correspondence with Savary upon this arbi- 
trary, and indeed illegal, proceeding. She had been given to 
understand that the motive for the suppression was her omission 
to mention the name of Napoleon in connection with Germany, 
where his armies had lately made him conspicuous. She wrote 
to Savary that she did not see how she could have introduced the 
Emperor and his " soldiery " into a purely Hterary work. To 
this Savary replied that she was misinformed upon the motive 
which had actuated him, and that her exile was the natural con- 
sequence of her conduct for years past. "We are not so reduced 
in France," he added, "as to seek for models among the nations 
which you admke. Your book is not French, and the air of 
France does not suit you." This impertinent letter was prefixed 
to the first edition of " Germany" published in London, in 1813. 

During her residence at Coppet, Madame de Stael, now a 
widow and forty-two years of age, became acquainted with M. de 
Rocca, a French officer. She felt an interest in him even before 



240 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

she saw him, for he was said to be young, noble and brave ; what 
was a still more attractive feature, he was wounded and an invalid. 
They first met in a public ball-room. She was dressed, it ap- 
pears, in a gaudy and unbecoming style, and was followed from 
point to point by a train of admirers and flatterers. " Is that the 
famous woman?" said de Rocca. " She is very plain, and I ab- 
hor such continual aiming at effect." She spoke to him, ex- 
pressed sympathy for his condition, and speedily effected a com- 
plete revolution in his opinions. From a caviller he became an 
admirer, and from an admirer a suitor. They were privately 
married, and the secret was carefully kept until the reading of her 
will, after her death, for she felt that the match was an iU-assorted 
one, and could hardly fail to excite ridicule. Besides, she was 
unwilling to change her name, "as it belonged to Europe," to 
quote her own words to de Rocca. 

The tyranny to which she was subjected at the period of this 
marriage, by Napoleon, became annoying and perplexing. She 
was not only exiled from France, but warned not to go farther than 
six miles from Coppet. Mathieu de Montmorency was exiled for 
visiting her, as was also Madame Recamier, as has already been 
narrated. M. Schlegel, who aided her in the education of her 
three children, was compelled to leave her. She was seized with 
the gloomiest apprehensions, and resolved to escape from the 
sphere of Napoleon's power. The prefect of Geneva was in- 
structed, from Paris, to suggest to Madame de Stael a means of 
recovering the sovereign's good graces — the publication of some 
loyal stanzas upon the birth of Napoleon's heir. " Tell those that 
sent you," she replied, " that I have no wishes in connection with 
the King of Rome, except the desire that his mother get him a 
healthy wet-nurse." 

She now passed her time in studying the map of Europe, in 
choosing an asylum, and in devising a route by which to get to 
it. She at last departed for England, which she approached 
through Russia and Sweden. Once beyond French influence. 



DEATH OF MADAME DE STAEL. 241 

she was treated with the highest consideration and the warmest 
cordiaUty. Among the distinguished men admitted to her inti- 
macy, Lord Byron held the first place, and she often gave him 
advice both upon his conduct and his verse. It was now that she 
puWished her "Germany." She had the deep satisfaction of 
seeing her reputation as a critic and delineator of national man- 
ners elevated by it to the highest point. 

She welcomed with delight the ov^erthrow and abdication of 
Napoleon, and at once returned to Paris, where she attached her- 
self to the party advocating a representative government under 
Louis XVIII. The restored sovereign caused the royal treasury 
to pay to her family the two million francs due M. ISTecker at 
his retirement from office — a measure of justice to which Napo- 
leon would never consent. During the Hundred Days she retired 
to Switzerland, totally weaned from all interest in public life. 
Her health began to fail, and she still further weakened it by the 
use of opium. She devoted herself closely to the composition of 
her last work, the " French Revolution," which now ranks as one 
of the most philosophical, though perhaps not the most impartial, 
histories of that period. Her sleepless nights she spent in prayer ; 
she became gentle, patient and devout. "I think I know," she 
said, in her last moments, " what the passage from life to death 
is. I am convinced the goodness of God makes it easy ; our 
thoughts become indistinct, and the pain is not great." She died 
with perfect composure, in 1817, in the fifty-first year of her age. 
Her husband, who was devotedly attached to her, survived her 
but a few months. 

Madame de Stael was the most distinguished authoress of her 
time. As a woman, she was always independent and sincere, and 
her faults — vanity and an uncontrollable thirst for applause — ^may 
easily be pardoned in view of her many talents. Napoleon could 
have won her to his government at any moment, had he chosen 
to do so. It is perhaps fortunate for literature that she was com- 
pelled to live in isolation, as neither " Corinne" nor " Germany" 

31 



242 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

would have been written had she been able to reside in Paris, in- 
stead of travelUng to occupy her exile. It is a singular and not 
unfair commentary upon Napoleon's reign, that its most remark- 
able literary celebrity — in point of mere chronology — owed her 
supremacy to his persecution ; and it is a permissible inference, 
that had his government preferred to foster and cherish her ge- 
nius, Madame de Stael would have been known to posterity as 
little more than a precocious child, a brilliant conversationalist, 
an unsexed woman, and a factious politician. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Liberty of the Press — The Moniteur — Official Bulletins — Registry of Marriages — Suppression of 
Newspapers — The British Press — Control of Public Opinion — Mutilated Editions of the Clas- 
sics — Dramatic Censorship — Edward in Scotland — Lax Criticism — Josephine and Cadet-Rous- 
sel — Violation of the Mails — The Dark Closet — Napoleon's Correspondents — Napoleon and 
Public Opinion. 

WE have spoken, in the two preceding chapters, of the influ- 
ence of Napoleon upon the Uterature of his time, of his 
relations with and conduct towards men of letters, and of his 
treatment and appreciation of their productions. "We have now 
to describe the processes by which he sought, and, in a measure, 
contrived, to lead and control public opinion, through the daily 
and periodical press ; to prevent the inculcation through school- 
books and the classics, of principles which he considered antago- 
nistic to his system ; to check the liberty of the stage, by a rigid 
dramatic censorship ; and to obtain a correct idea of the state of 
the popular mind, by means of a violation of the mails, and the 
employment of numerous persons of intelligence and good stand- 
ing as correspondents and advisers — these persons not serving, it 
must be remembered, at all in the capacity of informers. 

The preceding constitutions of France had recognized the 
liberty of the press. Under the Provisional Consulate, the police 
assumed discretionary power, and resorted to the seizure of pa- 
pers and pamphlets, and to the arrest of printers. It was sup- 
posed that Bonaparte's Constitution of the Year VIII. would 
substitute for this arbitrary process the fixed forms of a definite 
legislation. But the constitution, when it appeared, was found 



244 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

to be silent upon this vital matter. A few weeks afterwards, 
January 17th, 1800, a decree appeared, suppressing all the poli- 
tical journals of Paris, but thirteen ; the most considerable of 
those allowed to remain were the Moniteur, the Debats, the Jour- 
nal de Paris, the Publiciste, and L'Ami des Lois. The minister 
of police was directed to suffer no others to appear, except such 
as were devoted exclusively to commerce, science, art, hterature 
and advertisements. The avowed and doubtless the real motive 
for this step was the fact that several of the suppressed sheets 
served the cause of the royalists and other enemies of the Repub- 
lic. The latter, however, to supply their place, established nu- 
merous secret bulletins, and from time to time issued anonymous 
and unacknowledged pamphlets. 

The Moniteur now became the "only official journal," and the 
First Consul made it, says Thibaudeau, "the soul and the main- 
spring of his government, and his vehicle of communication 
with the public at home and abroad." ' The same writer says of 
the political and diplomatic notes inserted in it by Napoleon, that 
' ' they were either the expression of the truth or of what the 
government wished to have regarded as the truth. It is the duty 
of sound criticism to penetrate its motive, and to distinguish the 
true from the false : for if the ordinary reader accords full confi- 
dence to the articles of official journals, the enlightened reader is 
well aware that they contain, for the most part, little more than 
mutilated facts or designed mis-statements."^ This admission is 
remarkable, proceeding from a writer so impartial and conscien- 
tious. 

" It is to be desired," says Bourrienne, writing upon the same 
subject, " that the historian of this epoch beware of the bulletins, 
despatches, notes and proclamations which emanated from Bona- 
parte or which passed through his hands. The proverb ' False as 
a bulletin,' is as reliable as an axiom. Official documents were 
almost invariably altered ; the victories were exaggerated, while 

1 Thib. 1. 4US. '' Ibid. i. 404. 



FALSIFICATION OF DOCUMENTS. 245 

loss and reverse were as constantly extenuated. A history com- 
posed solely from the official bulletins, correspondence and de- 
spatches of the period, would be a veritable romance."^ 

Napoleon began at an early age to falsify public documents. 
The first instance — one which may be episodically narrated here 
— was due to a sentiment of perhaps pardonable vanity. Jose- 
phine was six years older than himself, and this difference of age 
he sought, on their union, by an adroit substitution of dates, to 
banish from the register of marriages. He therefore gave to the 
proper o£&cer his own age as twenty-eight years, whereas it was 
exactly twenty-six years and a half ; and he gave that of Jose- 
phine as twenty-nine years, though in reality it was thirty-three. 
In order to justify this modification, the date of his own birth, 
the 15th of August, 1769, was changed to the 6th of February, 
1768 ; and the date of Josephine's birth was removed from the 
20th of June, 1763, to the 23d of June, 1767. The declaration 
made, however, that both were of the same age is inconsistent 
with these figures, which indicate that Napoleon was her junior 
by nearly a year. This distortion of dates is inexplicable, except 
on the supposition that General Bonaparte desired to equalize 
their two ages. 

Napoleon, however, attributed this deception in Josephine's 
registry to that lady herself. The conversation turned, one day 
at St. Helena, upon the unwillingness of women to allow their 
age to be known. The case of a lady who preferred losing a 
large estate to producing her certificate of birth, which would 
have secured a verdict in her favor, was cited ; as well as that of 
a lady in love, who lived unmarried rather than show the record 
of her age. Napoleon then mentioned the instance of " a lady of 
high rank, who deceived her husband, on their marriage, by five 
or six years at least, by substituting for her own certificate that 
of a younger sister, long since dead. Poor Josephine exposed 
herself, however, to great danger by this act, for it might have 



246 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

rendered the union null and void." The chronicler of these con- 
versations goes on to say that Napoleon's words gave his audi- 
tory the key to certain dates, those already alluded to, which had 
formerly excited maUcious laughter at the Tuileries, and which 
were then explained by the gallantry of the husband and the 
complaisance of the imperial almanac/ 

The decree of the 17th of January— to return to the newspaper 
laws — did not define what would be considered an offence of the 
press, nor did it state what tribunal was to be charged with pass- 
ing judgment upon refractory or erring editors. The government 
took the matter into its own hands, and Bonaparte's will became 
the law. " L'Ami des Lois" was soon suppressed, upon the re- 
commendation of Lucien Bonaparte, then Minister of the Interior, 
for an article " heaping ridicule and sarcasm upon the Institute." 
Other suppressions were ordered for various causes. The secret 
and gossiping papers for a time defied the vigilance of Fouch^. 
" L'Invisible," printed and circulated by a royalist committee, 
announced the intention of Bonaparte " to obtain a divorce be- 
cause Madame Bonaparte could not give him an heir." "La 
Vedette de Rouen" dissected the character and capacity of the 
CouncU of State, mingling a good deal of offensive truth with as 
much scandalous fibbing. The " Bulletin a la Main" detailed the 
private life of l!^apoleon and Josephine at Malmaison. Among 
the subscribers to this sheet were the ambassadors of Prussia, of 
the Itahan Republic, and of Russia, in Paris. The latter, by his 
influence, directed the paper in the interest of England. The 
editor, a person named Fouilloux, was sent to prison ; but this 
savored so strongly of tyranny that Bonaparte was obUged to 
justify himself before the Council of State. "L'Antidote" was 
suppressed for containing ' ' numbers of those frightful maxims 
which have produced so much evil in France." 

These measures soon inspired a salutary terror, and during the 
remainder of his career Napoleon ruled the French press with a 



NAPOLEON AND THE BEITISH PRESS. 247 

rod of iron. He had, in fact, succeeded so well, at the period of 
the signing of the treaty of Amiens, early in 1802, that he made 
an attempt to extend the sphere of his power, and to limit the 
Uberty of the press of Great Britain. The English journals were 
abusive, hostile and calumnious in the extreme ; a sheet called 
"L'Ambigu," published at London, in French, by a person 
named Peltier, the ex-editor of the " Acts of the Apostles," ren- 
dered itself conspicuous above them all by the violence and un- 
scrupulousness of its attacks. Its title was as follows : "L'Ambigu, 
an atrocious and amusing miscellany, in the Egyptian style, pub- 
lished every ten days." Bonaparte, who was too susceptible to be 
able to treat this as it deserved, rephed by articles equally ill-tem- 
pered, in the Moniteur. He instructed his minister at London, M. 
Otto, to protest against it ; and wrote personally to the chancellor 
of the exchequer, to pray him to take measures for the passage of 
a law repressing an abuse so flagrant. The chancellor replied at 
length, citing the usual arguments in favor of the hberty of the 
press, and advising the First Consul to treat the matter with sov- 
ereign indifference. He added that any editor might be prosecuted 
for libel, but that his trial would involve the republication of the 
scandalous articles of which he — Bonaparte — complained. The 
First Consul abandoned for a while all attempts at retaliation, but 
a short time after the peace of Amiens, the French ambassador 
prosecuted Peltier, before the Court of the King's Bench, accusing 
him of advocating the assassination of Napoleon. Peltier, though 
defended by Sir James Mackintosh, was found guilty of hbel, and 
was sentenced to a light fine and the costs. The requisite sum was 
immediately raised by voluntary subscription. This verdict was 
rendered on the very day of the rupture of the treaty of Amiens : 
the prosperity of the Ambigu, so far from being compromised, 
was, on the contrary, immensely benefited by the condemnation. 
This was the first and only instance of interference, on the part 
of Napoleon, with the press of Great Britain. 

During the Empire, the French press remained under the 



248 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

thumb-screw of the police and of the Bureau of Public Security. 
It would be impossible to detail all the remarkable instances of 
its forced silence at important junctures. Two examples will 
suffice. The newspapers were not allowed to chronicle the fear- 
ful naval disaster of Trafalgar : the Moniteur dismissed it in three 
lines. When the allies entered France in 1814, they found the 
greater part of the population ignorant that such a conflict had 
ever taken place.^ On the day preceding the battle of Montmar- 
tre, in 1814, which decided the fate of Paris, the Moniteur omitted 
to allude to it, owing to a press of other matter, such as a com- 
mentary on " nosography," and a criticism upon the drama of the 
Chaste Susanna.^ 

The Bureau of the "Direction of Public Opinion" — a police 
department — besides composing articles for the newspapers and 
pieces for the theatres, revised and expurgated the classics, and 
closely examined all elementary books intended for the instruction 
of youth. This they did not do in the spirit of those wise and 
prudent teachers who seek to remove from the perusal of their 
scholars passages dangerous to good morals and conducive to lax 
principles : their object was the suppression of sentiments which 
might recall and revive ideas of hberty and of the rights of hu- 
manity. They published mutilated editions of Racine, Corneille, 
Fenelon, Massillon, Rousseau. They announced an edition of the 
historian Sallust, "with the omission of exceptionable passages." 
Everything which proceeded from authors whose antiquity gave 
them authority, or whose fame gave them influence, and which 
tended to throw discredit upon the injustice of conquerors, upon 
the tyranny of princes and the calamities of war, was ruthlessly 
expunged. 

" Frenchmen," says a modern author, " are like gunpowder : 
individually, they resemble the grains, smutty and contemptible , 
nationally, they are like the magazine, fired and exploding." We 
quote this opinion not for the purpose of subscribing to it, by any 



DRAMATIC CENSORSHIP. 249 

means, but because it records an important distinction between 
the individual and the mass — a distinction upon which is founded 
the necessity of dramatic censorship in Prance — a subject of which 
we have now to speak. A man alone, and in isolation, may read 
with calmness what might be very exciting, were he to hear it in 
company with a thousand others like himself. Sentiments which 
are harmless in print may lead to disorder and to hostile demon- 
strations, if tossed from the foot-lights into an excitable and dis- 
affected pit. Napoleon found that his subjects would severally 
peruse without emotion the popular and democratic language of 
Brutus in Yoltaire's " Mort de C6sar," but that if an actor, in the 
garb and with the manner of Brutus, delivered this same language 
in the hearing of the same individuals, collectively, they became an 
inflamed and menacing mob. Dramatic censorship consists, then, 
in the expurgation from the acting copy of matter liable to political 
application, which is allowed to remain in the printed edition. 

The instances of this under Napoleon were innumerable. The 
following lines from ' ' Britannicus " were dropped in the represent- 
ation, by order of the police, in consequence of the application by 
the audience to Kapoleon of what was said of Nero : 

" Je ne connais Neron et la cour que d'un jour ; 
Mais, si je I'ose dire, helas ! dans cette cour, 
Combien tout ce que I'on dit est loin de ce que I'on pense, 
Que la bouche et le coeur sont peu d'intelligence, 
Avee combien de joie on y trabit sa foi— 
Quel sejour etranger et pour vous et pour moi !" ' 

1 In 1851, the censorjj of Louis Napoleon, who was then President of the Republic and unconstitutionally a can- 
didate for reelection, struclv out from a comedietta in verse the following passage, which, as the author is nut a 
classic, we venture to translate : 

" I drink to harmony and that powerful accord 

"Which maizes a state tranquil and a people strong; 

To the day marked with white, when civic virtue 

Could alone aspire to power and public place ; 

When the Chief of the State, the Guardian of Liberty, 

Deserved well of his dearly beloved country, 

In returning, his brow bound with oak-leaves, 

To prune his blooming vineyard and cultivate his field." 
The objection to this tribute to Cincinnatus was, that the audience would inevitably applaud it as a disguised 
admonition to Louis Napoleon to retire gracefully from power, at the expiration of his term. 



250 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Agrippina's address to Nero, in the same tragedy, having 
caused, on one occasion, great confusion in the house, and neces- 
sitated a large number of arrests, it was also suppressed. 

The opening stanzas of " Herachus" were pointed out by cer- 
tain eager courtiers as exceptionable, and the order was given 
that the proper expurgations or alterations be made. A "poet" 
was engaged to execute the necessary changes, and Herachus was 
not again performed till it had undergone mutilation and adapta- 
tion. The tragedy of Cinna was represented as Corneille wrote 
it, and it was Bonaparte's favorite play, containing, as it does, a 
long and vehement tirade against popular power. 

One of the censors proposed to the Minister of the Interior to 
withdraw the tragedy of "Tancr^de" from the repertory of the 
Comedie Frangaise, because its hero is an exile who returns to 
his country without having obtained the previous authorization 
of the government ! This was carrjdng the matter too far, and 
the minister dechned acting upon the censor's suggestion. 

M. Lehoc's tragedy of "Pyrrhus," in which Talma had an 
admirable part, was suppressed by Napoleon, after several per- 
formances, on account of one single hne. A usurper, advised to 
restore a throne to the rightful monarch, replies that he would 
rather fall than abdicate : 

" Je pourrais en tomber, je n'en veux pas descendre." 

"La Mort de C^sar," of which we have spoken, was with- 
drawn from the stage, in consequence of the emjjhatic applause 
bestowed upon the character of Brutus. l!^apoleon even caused 
the publication in the newspapers of an article denouncing Bru- 
tus and his opinions, and commending the sentiments expressed 
by the despotic Cassius. 

In the opera of " Le Triomphe de Trajan," produced after 
the divorce, were several very flattering allusions to Josephine, 
whose character was favorably represented under the name of 
Plotine. These were suppressed by order of the pohce, who 



HOSTILE DRAMATIC LITERATURE. 251 

sought at this period to press upon the pubhc the claims of 
Marie Louise. The newspapers were instructed to chronicle 
the suppression of the passages referred to, as a change for the 
better. 

Though the control exercised over the stage was severe, Bo- 
naparte had constant reason to complain of the inefl&ciency and 
indifference of the censors. Early in the Consulate, a play by 
Alexandre Duval, entitled " Edouard en Bcosse," had been inter- 
dicted by the Minister of the Interior, but its representation was 
finally authorized, upon the intercession of influential persons. 
The audience was largely composed of royalists and returned 
emigrants, and all the allusions to Edward which could be con- 
strued into references to the Bourbons and their own legitimate 
and exiled sovereign — le Comte de Lille, Louis XVIIL- — were 
received with long and loud applause. Bonaparte was advised, 
the next morning, to suppress the play as ' ' anti-revolutionary 
and anti-patriotic," and, in order to judge for himself, attended 
the second performance. He noticed the marked political inter- 
pretation placed upon the situation of the king in Scotland, espe- 
cially by the late dukes de Choiseul and Richelieu. He left the 
house before the play was concluded. The piece was suppressed, 
the Duke de Richelieu was ordered to quit Paris in twenty-four 
hours, and the author was advised to absent himself for a while 
from France. He resided a year in Russia, and then returned 
without molestation to Paris. 

Shortly afterwards, a ballad opera — ^the words by Emmanuel 
Dupaty — was produced, entitled " L'Antichambre." Bonaparte 
was told that the characters were three lackeys, dressed in a 
livery closely resembling the attire of the three Consuls, and 
that Ch^nard, the actor performing the principal lackey, imitated 
his — Bonaparte's — attitudes, gestures and utterance. The First 
Consul ordered the matter to be investigated, and recommended 
the exile of Dupaty to St. Domingo. It was found, however, that 
the piece had been written and costumed under the Directory, 



252 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

and that any resemblance, therefore, was purely accidental. The 
opera, withdrawn for a time, was subsequently revived under 
the title of " Picaros and Diego," and was one of the thirteen 
plays offered to the jury, in 1810, in competition for the govern- 
ment prizes. Dupaty, who prudently retired to Brest, was sub- 
sequently invited back to Paris by Napoleon himself. 

Napoleon, being at Schoenbriin in 1809, wrote, under the 
date of September 17th, to M. de Montalivet, then Minister of 
the Interior, to complain of the laxity of his control of the minor 
theatres of Paris. "I hear," he said, "that pieces are nightly 
played in which direct allusions, in the worst taste, are made to 
the nations I have conquered. This is indecent and ungenerous, 
and is unworthy of a nation like ours. You will not hereafter 
trust the bureau of censors ; you will read all plays in manuscript 
yourself, that you may judge personally whether their represent- 
ation will be proper and opportune." 

The most remarkable instance of insufficient dramatic censure 
occurred soon after Napoleon's return from Wagram. It was 
then that he first took serious steps in view of a divorce from 
Josephine, though as yet no one was in his confidence, except 
Duroc. Josephine, however, had long entertained a presentiment 
of what was to happen, and the quick scent of the courtiers had 
set them upon the trace of the impending event. The Emperor 
ordered a hunt and a comedy at Gros-Bois, and made Berthier, 
Master of the Hounds, director of the festivities. The grand 
veneur summoned the company of the Vari^tes, and left the 
choice of the piece to Brunet, the favorite low comedian of the 
period. The latter selected Cadet-Roussel, a very popular and 
lively farce ; Berthier, who knew that it was in its two hundreth 
night, ratified the selection. The performance is thus described : 

"Every one had observed the profound melancholy of the 
Empress, upon her arrival, and the distinguished guests shared, 
during the dinner, her sombre humor. Napoleon, perceiving the 
air of constraint which pervaded the company, said, upon rising 



JOSEPHINE AND C ADET-ROUSSEL. 253 

from table to proceed to the theatre, ' Gentlemen, I have bidden 
you here to amuse you, and I hope you will laugh a little more 
than you have done hitherto. I want neither etiquette nor court 
formality : this is not the Tuileries.' This order had the singular 
effect of completely paralyzing those who before were only half 
paralyzed. But judge of the stupefaction of the audience, when 
they heard, at the very commencement of the play, Cadet-Rous- 
sel complain of his childlessness in the following terms : 

" ' It is painful for a man like me to have no sou to whom to 
transmit the inheritance of his glory ! Upon my word, I'll be 
divorced from Mrs. Cadet-Roussel, that I may marry a younger 
woman who will make me the father of children.' 

" The greater part of the other scenes turned upon this idea, 
and the word divorce was repeated twenty times. It is out of 
the question to picture the embarrassment of the company ; that 
of Berthier was inconceivable. Josephine could hardly contain 
herself, and it was feared every moment that she would be taken 
ill. Napoleon appeared to be very much interested in the piece, 
and strove to laugh, but it was only with the points of the lips. 
No one dared to look at him, lest he might seem to be making 
an application. An explosion appeared imminent. This, how- 
ever, was prevented by Berthier, who stood behind Napoleon's 
chair, and who, from time to time, indulged in noisy bursts of 
laughter which contrasted singularly with the consternation visi- 
ble upon his countenance. Upon the fall of the curtain, the 
Emperor arose hastily, and taking Duroc by the arm, said to 
him in an under tone : 

■ " 'Duroc, I see you have kept the secret of my divorce, for 
had my project been known to the public, no one would have 
ventured upon such a piece of impertinence. How long has this 
piece been upon the stage ? ' 

" ' About a year, sii'e.' 

" ' Is it successful ? ' 

" ' Immensely so, I have heard.' 



254 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

" ' I am sorry for it. Had I known it, I should not certainly 
have authorized the performance — not even a year ago. Why 
am I never told of what is going on ? One would think the cen- 
sors commit follies on purpose and on every occasion they can 
get. I cannot understand Cambac6res either : he is constantly at 
Brunet's theatre, and he has never once mentioned this infamy. 
I must absolutely reorganize this affair of dramatic liberty ; it 
needs a thorough reform. One would positively think,' he added, 
with a bitter smile, ' that I had made an arrangement with Bru- 
net and the author of the play.' 

" And he repeated several times, ' 1 am sorry for it, I am sorry 
for it.' " 

It was natural that after these various measures, intended to 
influence and control public opinion. Napoleon should desire to 
know — from other sources of information than his spies and secret 
poHce — what success had crowned his efforts. The Dark Closet, 
where mailed letters were opened and their contents noted, fur- 
nished him a portion of the intelligence he sought. 

This ominous institution originated under Louis XY. ; its pur- 
pose was then less to surprise political secrets than to keep pace 
with the scandalous chronicles of the city. Under ISTapoleon, 
however, its character changed. " Persons who wished to injure 
an enemy or serve a friend, made a long and efficient use of this 
closet, which, though at first a simple resource of the curiosity of 
a king whose leisure was to be amused, became in the end an 
arsenal of intrigues, dangerous by the abuses of which malice 
rendered it capable."^ 

That Napoleon's government habitually opened and possessed 
itself of the contents of letters intrusted to the mails, in all cases 
where a sufiicient motive existed, has been long known. In 1802, 
the public was incensed by the discovery of a violation of this sort, 
traced to a subaltern civil functionary. The Minister of Finance 
addressed a letter to Lavalette, the postmaster-general, censuring 



VIOLATION OF THE MAILS. 255 

such acts on the part of the agents of the mails. This letter 
was pubHshed in the Moniteur. It was thought to signify nothing 
more than the assertion, by the government, of its exclusive right 
to tamper with the mails, and a prohibition to the postal author- 
ities to assume any such privilege. It was felt, however, that if 
any man could by sagacity and discretion temper the evils of this 
system, that man was Lavalette."^ 

Bourrienne, the First Consul's private secretary, read every 
morning for three years the report made by the clerks of the dark 
closet. He states, however, that, with the exception of the faci- 
lities the institution offered for the denunciation of enemies, the 
evils of the system were far from justifying the fears or the indig- 
nation of the public. Out of thirty thousand letters mailed daily 
in Paris, not more than ten or twelve were copied and made use 
of, though many hundreds were opened. The copy or the extract 
was sent by Bourrienne to the minister whose bureau was inter- 
ested in the discovery made or the intelligence obtained, with 
these words : " The First Consul has directed me to inform you 
that he has just received the following information." It was the 
business of the minister to divine from whence the information 
came.^ Upon the establishment of the Empire, the violation of 
the mails became a matter of daily occurrence, and on the appoint- 
ment of Bourrienne to the post-of6.ce, in 1814, by the Emperor 
Alexander, he found an immense accumulation of intercepted 
letters. He sent a notice to the Moniteur on the 4th of April, 
stating that the letters to and from England and other foreign 
countries, which had been lying at the post-office for more than 
three years, would be forwarded to their respective addresses. 
The revenue collected upon these detained mails amounted to no 
less a sum than three hundred thousand francs .* 

One of Napoleon's ministers, conversing with the postmaster- 
general of a conquered kingdom, and learning that he was in the 
constant habit of breaking the seals of private correspondence, 



256 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

professed great surprise, and asked how so raoral a government 
could descend to means so odious. "God," returned the post- 
master, who was an Itahan, "is enabled to govern the world, 
because he reads in the hearts of men : how could we govern the 
earth unless we could read in their letters ? " ^ Napoleon, how- 
ever, had a better and surer method of acquainting himself with 
the state and the mutations of public opinion. He employed 
correspondents residing as well in the departments and in foreign 
countries as in Paris, who wrote to him, at stated intervals, upon 
subjects of national and public interest. These were not all flat- 
terers, and many of them told wholesome truths and administered 
undisguised reproofs. 

The most distinguished of these correspondents was J. Fiev^e, 
whose communications to the First Consul, during a series of 
years, were collected by himself, and published in three volumes, 
some years after Napoleon's fall. M. Desrenaudes, a friend of 
Talleyrand's, wrote upon subjects connected with internal ad- 
ministration, but was forbidden to discuss politics. Barrere, ex- 
member of the Convention, to whom Napoleon could not con- 
sistently give public office, was employed to enlighten him upon 
the state of public opinion. He wrote in this way, during four 
years, but as his communications consisted principally of gossip 
and flattery, he was recommended to devote his talents in future 
to journalism. M. Lemaire, professor of Latin, wrote ujDon litera- 
ture and literary men, but was removed for personality. M. de 
Montlosier, ex-deput}^ wrote upon administrative and religious 
topics. He was commissioned to compose a work upon the 
French monarchy, which he did ; the examining committee re- 
ported against its publication as inopportune and dangerous. 
These gentlemen received for their services about 500 francs a 
month. Several gave their labor gratuitously, as in the case of 
an auditor at the Court of Accounts, who wrote for fourteen 
years under the pseudonym of H61iodore. 

I Thib. iii. 58. 



LITEEARY REACTION. 257 

Madame de Genlis, for many years governess and instructress 
in the service of the Bourbons, and who had returned with the 
royalist emigrants to Paris, lived for some time in absolute want. 
The Minister of the Interior, Chaptal, gave her a temporary home 
in one of the public libraries — that of the Arsenal. When Na- 
poleon became Emperor, he ordered her to receive a monthly 
pension of 500 francs ; and, in order not to offend her delicacy, 
requested her to make semi-monthly communications to him upon 
literature, finance, or national manners. This she did, choosing 
for her topics, religion, philosophy and morals. She received 
6000 francs a year from Napoleon till his fall in 1814. 

We have thus rehearsed the facts and adduced the requisite 
examples in this curious matter of Napoleon's influence on let- 
ters, and his attempted control of public opinion. It is needless 
to pursue the subject further. It may be well, however, to re- 
mark, that as an explosion usually follows restraint, and as a 
reaction is the natural consequence of any violent and prolonged 
effort, so the scenes of desertion and treachery which surrounded 
Napoleon's fall, were in a measure due to the forced service he had 
so long imposed upon courtiers, artists, authors, and upon the 
countless retainers of his government. The fallen Emperor, steal- 
ing in disguise and in bodily danger across disaffected Burgundy, 
hostile Languedoc, and menacing Provence, was reaping the legit- 
imate fruit of his system. Every tongue that had sworn a forced 
allegiance, now muttered treason ; every pen that had yielded a 
compulsory compliance, or that had remained in sullen inactivity, 
was now able and rejoiced to write without dictation. All that 
had offered service and adherence, and had furnished their stipu- 
lated flattery or their implied adulation, now hastened to profit 
by their opportunity to speak either the thought they had sup- 
pressed or the truth they had disguised. France would not have 
presented the spectacle it did upon Napoleon's abdication — a 
spectacle of desertion unexampled in history — had it not been 
held during fifteen years in a state of mental and moral servitude. 

33 



258 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Literature, no longer compelled to flatter, hastened to launch ana- 
themas at the flying monarch ; the arts were glad to be free from 
the submission in which the imperial patronage had held them ; 
and even soldiers, weary of their service and ashamed of their 
prostration, assumed the white cockade and shouted welcome to 
the Bourbon king. This extravagance and excess of treachery 
was but a recoil from the state of compression in which the 
mind of the nation had been confined. The pen and the lips that 
Napoleon had condemned to servile flattery became, at his de- 
cline, hostile and impertinent. Had he allowed them a moderate 
liberty during his reign, he would have found them temperate, 
just and sympathetic at his fall. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Elisa Bonaparte — Her Marriage and Residence at Paris — Her Government of Lucca — Baron 
Capelle — Paganini — Elisa in Tuscany — Her Exile and Death — Caroline Bonaparte — Her Mar- 
riage with Murat — Her Portrait — Intrigue with General Junot — Murat's Military Dress — 
The Throne of Naples — Caroline's Exile and Death. 

MARIANNA-ELISA-BONAPARTE, the eldest of Napoleon's 
sisters, was born at Ajaccio, in the year 1777. She received 
a better education than either Pauline or Caroline, for during her 
youth Corsica was tranquil, and the influence of her family con- 
siderable. They commanded sufficient credit to obtain her admis- 
sion as a free pupil to the school of St. Cyr, where she remained 
till revolution broke out in Corsica, in 1792, in consequence of 
the capture of the island by the English. Madame L^titia and 
her daughters now took up their residence at Marseilles, subsist- 
ing, as has been already stated, upon a fund voted by the Con- 
vention for the support of Corsican refugees. 

In May, 1797, at the age of twenty, Marianna married M. 
Felice Bacciochi, a Corsican like herself, of a poor but noble family, 
and holding the grade of captain of infantry. It is impossible, 
from the records now accessible, to decide whether Napoleon was 
favorable or averse to the alliance ; one authority positively 
stating that he considered it unfortunate and ill advised, and an- 
other as distinctly asserting that he regarded the prescriptions of 
a proper ambition as fully consulted in the match. But it must 
be remembered that Napoleon was already married to Josephine, 
and had been for some months general-in-chief of the Italian 



260 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

army. Even at this period lie raight with propriety have sought 
husbands for his sisters in higher walks of life than those trodden 
by M. Bacciochi, and if in reality he did oppose the step, the 
thorough insignificance of which his brother-in-law. gave proof 
during his long career, amply justified his objections. 

The next year, Lucien Bonaparte was elected to the Council 
of Five Hundred, and Marianna and her husband followed him to 
Paris. Here Madame Bacciochi, whose education had fitted her 
for the society of men of letters, gathered around her many of the 
poets and critics of the time. Chateaubriand took pleasure in 
her acquaintance, and at a later period found her an active and 
willing mediatress in tempering the unfriendly relations existing 
between himself and Napoleon. Laharpe and Pontanes were assid- 
uous visitors at her house : the latter soon became her acknow- 
ledged lover, the complaisant husband quietly accepting the odious 
position. Madame Bacciochi now affected the airs of a blue-stock- 
ing ; she presided over a society of literary ladies, and invented a 
costume for the use of the associate members. This she wore 
herself on one occasion at a fancy ball, announcing her intention 
of recommending it to the adoption of all good Christians. In ap- 
pearance Marianna Bonaparte was much less attractive than either 
of her sisters. A harsh and domineering expression injured the 
effect of features which might otherwise have been pleasing, and 
her manner, which was abrupt and almost contemptuous toward 
inferiors, rendered her address distant and suspicious. Her bones 
were large and prominent, and her limbs ill-shaped : her gait was 
not graceful, and often subjected her to the playful mockeries of 
her sister Pauline. 

Napoleon became emperor in 1804, and in 1805 made his 
eldest sister Princess of Lucca and Piombino, in Italy. She now 
abandoned the name of Marianna, by which she had been known 
during her youth, using exclusively her second baptismal name, by 
which she is historically known — that of Elisa. She and her hus- 
band were crowned at Lucca, in July, 1805 ; this was the only 



ELISA BONAPARTE. 261 

act of her life as a sovereign, in which she recognized M. Baccio- 
chi as her equal. She soon degraded him to a position which 
her biographers have described as that of the first of her subjects, 
if not that of the first of her domestics. At the parade, he was 
her aid-de-camp, and lowered his sword as she passed ; at official 
ceremonies of the palace, he was her chamberlain, and stood be- 
hind her or marched after her ; in social life, he was the very last 
and least of her associates ; on the coins, his profile was three- 
quarters absorbed and lost in hers. She seemed to make it a 
point to render him ridiculous in the eyes of Europe, and absurd 
in the sight of history. 

Her government of the principality of Lucca was not an un- 
successful one. She did much to develop the resources of the 
country, the face of which she beautified with numerous public 
works. The admirable road from Lucca to the Baths, and the 
embankment raised for the first three miles along its borders to 
resist the inundations of the Serchio, remain to bear witness to 
her spirit of improvement. She committed, however, several 
ruthless acts ; she caused the cathedral of Massa Ducale to be 
demolished, because it stood too near her summer palace ; and 
she destroyed, from a similar motive, the church of the Madonna 
at Lucca. She made her government a military one, in ambitious 
imitation of that of France, and, for want of a war with which to 
gratify her martial tastes, she ordered parades, drills, musters 
and sham fights ; of these she was the heroine, gorgeously attired 
and sumptuously served, her husband rendering himself useful as 
an orderly officer. He waited in respectful silence, and, when 
bidden, bore mimic despatches across the bloodless field. 

The princess encouraged the arts, and protected the artists 
who sought her favor. She rewarded the poets who chanted her 
praises; and when styled, in flattering verse, "La Semiramide 
di Lucca," she accepted the comparison as a tribute which did her 
honor. She lived in open defiance of public opinion, being of a 
temper too imperious to pay heed to the criticisms of those who 



262 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

were lier subjects and not her peers. One of lier lovers at this 
period was Baron Capelle, Prefect of the Mediterranean, and in 
this capacity stationed at Leghorn. He often saw the princess at 
Lucca, and, when the proper moment for a declaration arrived, 
he made it in a manner at once novel and dehcate. He found 
her suffering, on this occasion, with a violent tooth-ache. He 
summoned a dentist to the palace. He said to her, "Princess, 
it appears the tooth is beyond saving ; you must have it out." 
" Oh, I never can consent, I am sure," returned her highness. 
CapeUe di-ew the dentist into a corner, and said, "Here, find the 
tooth corresponding in my mouth to the one which aches in the 
princess's, and draw it ; make haste." The operation was ac- 
complished quickly and noiselessly. The baron showed the ex- 
tracted tooth to the princess, saying, "There, you see that it is the 
affair of a mere instant, and that it leaves no trace behind it." 
The invalid could hardly regard with indifference this chivabous 
proof of interest.^ 

The Princess Elisa was instrumental in directing the efforts 
of Paganini to a new field of exertion. At the age of twenty he 
was appointed leader of the orchestra of the court : he conducted 
the musicians at the opera when the reigning family attended the 
performance. Once a fortnight he gave a concert at the palace. A 
lady, whom he had long loved in sUence, seemed to manifest, by 
her constant presence at these entertainments, that she observed 
and perhaps returned his passion. Their position, however, en- 
joined upon them discretion and mystery. On the day preceding 
one of his concerts, Paganini caused a message to be conveyed to 
the lady, to the effect that he was arranging a musical surprise 
for her. The programme for the evening announced a "Novelty," 
called a " Scena Amorosa." The court cm-iosity, thus enhsted, 
was stimulated to a high pitch by the appearance of Paganini 
with a violin of two strings, the sol and the chanterelle. The 
piece, executed entii-ely by him on this instrument, represented a 

1 M^m. d'un Bourgeois, i. 45. 



ELISA BONAPARTE AND PAGANINI. 263 

passionate dialogue between a lady of soprano register and tender 
sentiments, and a jealous lover of tenor compass and pleading 
accents. To the reproaches of the tortured gallant succeeded the 
consolations of his yielding inamorata ; a reconciUation soon fol- 
lowed, the whole concluding with a merry rigadoon danced by the 
happy couple, which the audience interpreted as an elopement 
and a lesson to obdurate parents. 

The Princess Elisa complimented the musician upon his extra- 
ordinary performance, saying, " You have accomplished an impos- 
sibility with two strings ; could you not execute a similar feat upon 
one ?" Paganini hesitated, but promised to make the attempt. 
Three weeks afterwards he played before the court, and upon the 
fourth string alone, a sonata entitled "Napoleone." His success 
was immense, and from this concert dated his predilection for per- 
formances upon a single string. This is Paganini's own account — 
given some years subsequently — of the manner in which he was 
led to attempt a task apparently so impossible. The popular ex- 
planation had previously been, that having committed a terrible 
murder, he was confined for many months in a dismal cell, where 
a violin formed his only resource and furnished him his only oc- 
cupation. The jailer, fearing that he might hang himself with the 
strings, prudently removed all but one ! From this soUtary chord 
the patient artiste speedily learned to draw the various sounds 
which, until then, had only been extorted from four! 

Kapoleon recognized the administrative capacities of his sister, 
in 1808, by making her G-rand Duchess of Tuscany, thus largely 
extending her dominions. She now resided alternately at Ploi-- 
ence, Pisa, and Poggio. She felt that she might presume, in her 
diplomatic relations with France, upon the indulgence of her bro- 
ther, and the correspondence of her government with the French 
Minister of Foreign Affairs, which she dictated herself, shows 
how jealous she was of French encroachment or interference, and 
how adroitly she made her influence with Napoleon teU in fa- 
vor of Tuscany and its interests. She stimulated agriculture by 



264 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

offering prizes for successful cultivation of the land, or ameliora- 
tion of the breed of domestic animals. She made forays against 
the bandits that infested the forests. She built fortifications and 
erected school-houses and asylums for orphans. Her reviews 
and parades were now upon a grander scale ; she disciplined 
raw recruits, instituted a system of military encouragement, 
promoted favorites and cashiered the objects of her dislike. 
Her husband had not participated in her late advancement ; 
while she rose from the rank of a princess to that of a grand 
duchess, he still remained the citizen husband of a regal wife. 
She never allowed him any other position than that of a sub- 
missive official and an obedient subaltern. 

Upon the fall of J^apoleon, she commenced, like all her family, 
a life of exile and vagabondage. The Austrians would not per- 
mit her to reside at Bologna, and Murat, the husband of her sister, 
would not receive her at Naples. She remained for a time at 
Trieste, and upon the death of Murat, in 1815, she retired with 
Caroline to the vicinity of Vienna, and afterwards to the chateau 
of Brunn, in Moravia. She was finally permitted to reside at 
Trieste, under the name of the Countess of Campignano, where 
she died in 1820. She was the first of the eight sons and daugh- 
ters of Lsetitia Bonaparte to descend to the tomb. 

During the period of her wanderings, Napoleon said of her at 
St. Helena : ' ' Blisa has a masculine brain and a lofty soul ; she 
doubtless displays great philosophy in adversity." Upon hearing 
of her death, he desired to be left alone. Being interrupted in 
his meditations, he said, " I used to think that death had forgot- 
ten our family ; but now he has begun to strike. He has taken 
Elisa, and I shall soon follow her." His own death took place in 
less than six months from this date. 

Caroline-Maria- Annonciada Bonaparte, the youngest sister of 
Napoleon, was born at Ajaccio in 1782. She was, therefore, 
eleven years old when her mother and family were compelled to 
leave Corsica for Marseilles, and to accept the bounty of the 



CAROLINE BONAPARTE. 265 

Convention. On going to Paris the next year, she was placed 
at Madame Campan's boarding school, where she acquired some 
accomplishments and many aifectations. In 1798, her brother 
Joseph was appointed ambassador of the Republic near the 
Papal government, and Caroline spent some time with him at 
Rome. Though only sixteen, her rather precocious beauty at- 
tracted many admirers, among whom were Joachim Murat, aid- 
de-camp of Bonaparte, and the young Prince de Santa Croce. 
Murat was evidently the favorite, but he was unable to prose- 
cute his suit, as he fell at this period into disgrace with the Gen- 
eral-in-chief, on account of an unskillful manoeuvre before the 
walls of Mantua. He lingered for many months under Bona- 
parte's displeasure, but redeemed himself in Egypt, at Aboukir, 
and in the struggle with Mourad Bey. On his return to Prance, 
Josephine strongly urged him to ajDply at once to Napoleon for 
the hand of his sister Caroline, hoping by thus espousing his in- 
terests, to secure to herself a partisan in the very bosom of her 
husband's family. 

Murat preferred his request to Bonaparte at the Luxembourg. 
It was received coldly, and Murat obtained no immediate satis- 
faction. In the meantime occurred the revolution of the Ninth 
of November ; Murat's dashing charge of grenadiers in the Hall 
of the Five Hundred, greatly facilitated Bonaparte's usurpation 
of power. The aid-de-camp received the command of the Con- 
sular Guard, and the First Consul yielded to the pressing solici- 
tations of Josephine, Hortense, and Eugene, in behalf of his 
marriage with Caroline. "Murat is the son of an innkeeper," 
said Bonaparte, hesitating ; "but, after all, the. alliance is a pro- 
per one, and no one can say that I am proud, and that I seek 
grand matches." Joachim Murat and Caroline Bonaparte were 
married at the Luxembourg on the 29th of December, 1799, and 
in the second month of the Consulate. Bonaparte could only 
give his sister a portion of 30,000 francs ; the wedding present 
which he made her was a diamond necklace, abstracted from 

34 



266 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Josephine's jewel-box, in the vain hope that that luxurious lady- 
would not notice its absence. He was soon able, however, to 
purchase her a country seat called Villiers, at NeuUly. 

Caroline Bonaparte, at the age of seventeen , and at the period 
of her marriage, is said to have possessed the most beautiful com- 
plexion in France . Her skin was thought to resemble white satin 
seen through pink glass. Otherwise, she was not to be compared 
to her elder sister, Pauline. Her head was large, and her shoul- 
ders were round ; her arms, hands, and feet were perfect, like 
those of all the Bonapartes ; her hair, which in infancy, had been 
almost white, was now neither light nor dark ; her teeth were 
white, though not so regularly beautiful as those of Napoleon ; she 
kept them constantly visible by a permanent sneer. Jeweh-y, 
which so well became Pauline, was detrimental to the pure, pale 
colors of Caroline's complexion.* Heavy stuffs, brocades, and 
satins were equally prejudicial, and she seldom wore them in 
consequence. 

Napoleon soon left Paris for the second Italian campaign, and 
taking Murat with him to St. Bernard and Marengo, left the 
youthful bride to play her part in the reviving gaieties of the 
metropolis. On the proclamation of the Empire, Napoleon made 
Murat Grand Duke of Berg and Cleves, his dominions including 
the possessions of the house of Nassau and the principality of 
Munster. Caroline was not content with this allotment, and 
left her husband to assume and to administer his government as 
he thought fit. She saw very little of her capital city of Dussel- 
dorf, preferring to remain at Paris and to reside in the El3's6e 
Imperial. During the winter of 1806—7, she led the festivities 
of the court, of which she was the undisputed belle. Her sister 
Elisa was at Lucca, Pauline was an invaHd, Hortense was in 
Holland, Josephine had abandoned dancing, and Napoleon and 
Murat were absent at the wars. It was at this period that she 

* The portrait of Caroline Bonaparte on the opposite page, is from the original by G§rard, at the Historical Gal- 
lery of Tcrsailles. 




m BQMAFAairi; 



CAEOLINE AND GENERAL JUNOT. 267 

enticed General Junot, now G-overnor of Paris, into a gallant in- 
trigue, which drew upon him the wrath of JSTapoleon, and which 
consequently reduced his wife, the Duchess d'Abrantfes, to the 
necessity of writing her memoirs for a subsistence. 

Napoleon returned to Paris in July, 1807, having but lately 
received full and written details of Junot's intimacy with his 
sister. Their first meeting was a stormy one. Napoleon accused 
Junot directly of having compromised, by his assiduities, the 
good name of the Grand Duchess. "Sire," exclaimed Junot, 
"I loved the Princess Pauline at Marseilles, and you were on 
the point of giving her to me. I loved her to distraction, yet 
what was my conduct ? Was it not that of a man of honor ? I 
am not changed since that period. I am still equally devoted to 
you and yours. Sire, your distrust of me is unkind." Napo- 
leon listened with a menacing bi-ow. At last he said, " I am 
willing to believe what you say, but you are none the less guilty 
of imprudence, and imprudence in your situation towards my 
sister amounts to a fault, if not to worse. Why does the Grand 
Duchess occupy your boxes at the theatres ? Why does she go 
thither in your carriage? Hey, M. Junot! You are surprised that 
I am so well acquainted with your affairs, and those of that little 
fool, Madame Murat. Yes, I know all this, and many other 
facts which I am willing to consider as imprudences only, but 
which are nevertheless serious offences on your part. Once 
more, why this carriage with your livery ? Your servants should 
not be seen at two o'clock in the morning in the court-yard of 
the Grand Duchess of Berg ! You, Junot ! You, compromise my 
sister !" 

" I do not hesitate to ascribe all my husband's misfortunes," 
writes Madame Junot, "and even his death, to his unhappy 
entanglement with Caroline Murat. I do not charge this connec- 
tion with real criminaHty : I even believe that there was only the 
appearance of it : but the suspicious appearances which really did 
exist, led to the most fatal consequences : they kindled the lion's 



268 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

wrath. A family bereft of its head, children made orphans, an 
illustrious name assailed, are sufficient grounds for conferring on 
my history aU the solemnity it merits, and preserving it from the 
insignificance of an amorous intrigue. I shall entertain my read- 
ers neither with jealous passions nor with romantic sorrows : it is 
facts alone that I shall record." Gen. Junot was soon after sent 
to take the chief command of the army of observation, now 
assembling at Bordeaux and Bayonne. " So then you exile me ?" 
he said to Napoleon. " What more could you have done, had I 
committed a crime?" "You have not committed a crime, but 
you have erred. It is indispensable to remove you from Pai'is, to 
silence the current reports respecting my sister and you. Come, 
my old friend — ^the marshal's baton is yonder." 

Murat spent the winter of 1807-8 at Paris, and for a time 
plunged into the follies of what he supposed a life of fashion and 
elegant debauch. As a gallant, his connections were of the lowest 
sort, and had it not been for his splendid military reputation, his 
aifected manners and harlequin dress would have driven him from 
society. Even in the field and as a soldier, he had made himself 
notorious by his fantastic costume. He gathered together scraps 
of military uniforms from the armies of every nation in Europe, 
and huddled them upon his magnificent person with an utter dis- 
regard of epoch, fitness or color. He invented a series of military 
head-dresses that rendered the leader of the cavalry of France a 
pompous and flaunting caricature. His feathers cost him 7000 
francs a month. He was called "I'homme aux panaches." The 
most severe language that ISTapoleon ever listened to from any one 
of his generals, was provoked by Murat's mountebank attire. 
"That brother-in-law of yours is a pretentious knave," said 
Lannes, "with his pantomime dress and his plumes like a dancing 
dog." Murat's eccentricities could not diminish his merits as 
the most brilliant cavalry officer of the age ; but his curls, furs, 
plumes, feathers, and his wardrobe generally — ^that of a strolling 
player — ^with corresponding manners, rendered it vain for him 



CAROLINE BONAPARTE AT NAPLES. 269 

to aspire to the position of a gentleman and a courtier. Napoleon 
once called Mm a " Franconi King." 

In July, 1808, Joseph Bonaparte, King of Naples, was trans- 
ferred to the throne of Spain by Napoleon. Murat was appointed 
to the vacant crown of the two Sicilies. Queen Caroline entered 
the capital of her realms on the 25th of September, 1808 ; her 
subjects extended to her a genial and flattering welcome. " This 
same Caroline Bonaparte," says de Salgues, "who might have 
been seen some years before at Marseilles, dressed in humble 
garments, bringing home from market, in early morning, the fru- 
gal meals of the family for the day, was now to replace upon the 
throne of Naples the daughter of the Caesars." ^ While Murat 
remained in Naples, he administered the government in an enlight- 
ened and merciful spirit ; during his various periods of absence, 
to attend Napoleon in his wars, Caroline acted as regent, and dis- 
played shrewdness, activity and liberal views in her conduct of 
affairs. At other times, Murat remained in Naples, while she 
spent a season of gaiety and relaxation from the cares of state, at 
Paris. The husband and wife, when together, led a discordant 
and quarrelsome life ; the palace often presented the spectacle of 
conjugal dissensions. Murat felt that he was unduly subject to 
the influence of his wife, and once, in a spasm of resistance, 
declared that he would not be a "second Bacciochi!" He was 
disgusted with the reverses and horrors of the retreat from Mos- 
cow in 1812, and in 1813, after the disastrous battle of Leipsic, 
he finally abandoned Napoleon. He associated himself by treaties 
with Austria and England, and for a time preserved his throne. 
On Napoleon's return from Elba, he attempted to form a league 
of the Italian States, and to induce them to arm for their national 
independence. This brought him into hostility with Austria, and 
left him no support in any reliable quarter. He fled to the island 
of Ischia, and from thence sailed for France, leaving Queen Caro- 
line regent of the kingdom. The Austrian army had entered the 



270 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

territory, and Naples was agitated with apprehension. Queen 
Caroline mounted a war-horse, reviewed the troops, and addressed 
them in words of encouragement and in a spirit of resistance. 
She remained on horseback for six hours during this, the last day 
of her reign. Open resistance was, however, hopeless, and she 
finally surrendered herself to the English Admiral commanding 
the harbor, after obtaining a promise from him to give her an 
unmolested passage to France. From this vessel she was com- 
pelled to witness the return of the Bourbons into Naples. The 
royal Prince Don Leopold entered the city on horseback, in the 
midst of the rejoicings and acclamations of the people, who had 
already forgotten their late popular sovereign, Murat, the King 
of Feathers. 

Caroline soon afterwards claimed the protection of the Aus- 
trians, the English commander failing to execute his engagement 
to place her on the soilof France. She assumed the title of 
Countess of Lipano, and Murat, now in Corsica, was invited by 
the Austrian government to take that of the Count of Lipano, to 
reside in Bohemia or Moravia with his wife, and to give a bond 
not to quit the Austrian states without permission. He preferred 
to stake his fortunes upon a rash and hopeless expedition. He 
landed at Pizzo, in Calabria, with twenty-eight followers, was 
taken, condemned and shot. Caroline resided successively at 
Brunn, at Rome, and at Florence, devoting herself zealously to the 
education of her five children. She died at Florence, in 1839. 

"Caroline," said' Napoleon at St. Helena, "was adroit and 
capable ; she possessed great character and an insatiable ambi- 
tion ; her capacity rose with her trials." Of Murat he said, "he 
was one of several that I made too great ; I elevated him beyond 
his level. It is difficult to conceive of greater turpitude than that 
displayed in his late proclamation. He says it is time to choose 
between two banners, that of virtue and that of crime. He means 
mine by the banner of crime. And it is Murat, my work, who 
would have been nothing without me, the husband of my sister, 



NAPOLEON'S ESTIMATE OF HIS FAMILY. 271 

who writes these words. It would be difficult to abandon a sink- 
ing cause with greater brutality, or to embrace new fortunes with 
more shameless treachery."^ 

As we shall not have occasion again to speak of the imperial 
family, we may properly insert here the estimate placed upon 
their achievements by Napoleon himself. "It is very certain." 
he said at St. Helena, " that I was poorly seconded by my family, 
and that my brothers and sisters have done great harm to me 
and my cause. Much has been said of the strength of my char- 
acter, but I was reprehensibly weak for my family, and they were 
well aware of it. After the first storm of resistance was over, 
their perseverance and stubbornness always carried the day, and 
they did with me what they liked. I made great mistakes in this. 
If each one of them had given a common impulse to the different 
masses I had intrusted to them to rule, we could have marched to- 
gether to the poles ; everything would have fallen before us ; we 
should have changed the face of the globe. I did not have the 
good fortune of Genghis Khan, with his four sons, who knew no 
other rivalry than that of serving him faithfully. Did I make a 
brother of mine a king, he at once thought himself king ' by the 
grace of God ;' so contagious has this phrase become. He was 
no longer a lieutenant in whom I could repose confidence ; he 
was an enemy more for me to beware of. His efforts did not tend 
to second mine, but to make himself independent. Every one 
of them had a mania to believe himself adored and preferred to 
me. They actually came to regard me as an obstacle, and as a 
source of peril. Legitimate sovereigns would have acted exactly 
as they did, and would not have believed themselves a whit better 
established. Poor things ! "When I succumbed, their dethrone- 
ment was not exacted or even mentioned by the enemy ; and not 
one of them is capable now of exciting a popular movement. 
Sheltered by my labors, they enjoyed the sweets of royalty ; I 
only bore the burden."^ 

1 Las Cases, xi. 3T1. ' Ibid. iii. 190. 



CHAPTER XIIII. 

Science under Napoleon — The Institute — Speculation and Tlieory — Progress of Physical Sci- 
ence — Mathematics — Chemistry appUed to the Arts — Chaptal, Cuvier, Jussieu, Geoffrey St. 
Hilaire, Volta, Fulton — The Gregorian Calendar restored — The EepubUcan Tear — The Deci- 
mal System — Dr. Gall — Maelzel's Automaton — The Comet of 1811 — ^Napoleon's Iniiuence upon 
Science. 

THE Institute, one of the creations of the Convention, was, at 
the period of the election of Bonaparte to the Consulate, the 
embodiment of the science and erudition of France ; at the same 
time that, owing to its origin and the antecedents of many of its 
members, it was still tinctured with repubhcanism and inclined 
to independence. It was the most vigorous existing souvenir of 
1789 ; given to free-thinking, Jacobinism and metaphysics. In 
its present organization it showed no tendency toward monarchy, 
and the reaction which was visible in the nation had not yet 
reached those, the most able by their attainments and influence, 
to precipitate and accelerate it. Bonaparte sought for the reason 
of this, and found it in the Academy of Moral Philosophy and Po- 
litical Economy. 

This academy was one of the five composing the Institute ; 
the other four being, as we have already had occasion to state, 
Science, Literature, Ancient History, and the Fine Arts. Bona- 
parte drew his pen through that portion of the constitution which 
created the fifth academy ; thus suppressing all that class of in- 
vestigation into mind and the unseen world that he regarded as 
useless, if not injurious : he considered such labor as misapphed 
exertion and bad philanthropy. He would have no speculation, 
no theory, no metaphysics ; his government required the aid of 



SCIENCE UNDER NAPOLEON. 273 

statistics, of axioms, of mathematics ; the dominion at which he 
aimed needed the concurrence of historians, poets-laureate, artists, 
inventors, discoverers, not rhapsodists nor visionaries. The epoch 
was to be one of action, not of dreaming. The empire called for 
earnest work upon matter and masses ; inquiry into the nature 
of the soul and the origin of life could be spared for a fitter and 
less agitated period. 

The progress of physical science during the previous twenty 
years had been immense. The theory of crystallization, the analy- 
sis of light and air, the resolution of the four so-called primitive 
elements into their constituent parts, the explanation of the laws 
of evaporation and vaporization, of galvanism, of combustion, the 
discovery of new acids, of the method of producing all mineral 
waters artificially, were long strides in the path of progress, due to 
BerthoUet, Monge, Hally, Humboldt, Aldini and BufFon. Me- 
teors had been decomposed ; the bowels of the earth had been 
summoned to reveal their secrets, and races extinct and worlds for- 
gotten were called back from beneath the new formations which 
had buried them. Cuvier had just commenced his theory of fos- 
sils and petrifactions, which he lived magnificently to complete ; 
Halle had published his researches upon digestion. Botany, an- 
atomy, geolog}^ were all the subjects of profound inquiry, and the 
sources of untold benefits to mankind. 

The advance of the sciences of which mathematics form the 
bases, had been equally striking. Algebra, the mechanic arts, 
astronomy, navigation, geography, all seemed to put on the seven- 
league boots of progress, and had added largely to the stock of 
human knowledge, and to the comforts and blessings of existence. 
Yaccination, the signal telegraph, the hydraulic ram, stereotyping, 
were either discovered or applied at this period, or were mate- 
rially improved and modified. The metrical system of weights 
and measures — an institution of the republic — had also done its 
share in facilitating research, by simplifying calculations and all 
operations of figures. 

35 



274 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

That Bouaparte should desire to perpetuate in France, at the 
institution established in that view, such splendid traditions of 
useful labor and beneficent inquiry, to the exclusion of metaphy- 
sics and philosophy — which yielded, as he maintained, results 
either nugatory or pernicious, and which at any rate could not 
contribute to his advancement or his glory — was but natural. 
That the Institute should cherish the achievements of his ambi- 
tion and illustrate his career, was his motive in changing its or- 
ganization. Even his most uncompromising eulogists admit that 
his action in this matter was due to selfish considerations. " The 
exact and physical sciences," says Capefigue, "could embelhsh and 
dignify his reign ; the Academy could chant his praises ; historians 
could perpetuate his name, coin medals and compose inscriptions ; 
the fine arts could reproduce his image, whether amid the eter- 
nal snows of St. Bernard, or at the coronation in ISTotre Dame ; 
sculptors could hand down to future ages his antique and accen- 
tuated features, and could cast bronze columns to his memory ; 
musicians could sing hymns and celebrate his triumphs. The In- 
stitute became, for him, not only a means of warping contempo- 
raneous judgment, but of preparing history and of influencing 
posterity."^ 

It would seem that the scientific conquests of the repubhc 
had left but Httle field of exertion to the science of the empire ; 
but Napoleon's era is, in this resjoect, one of the richest in 
French annals. Chemistry applied to the arts was the most 
striking feature of the investigations of the period. It replaced 
the cochineal of Oaxaca and the indigo of Hindostan — products 
that were with difficulty obtained in time of war — by distilla- 
tions from indigenous plants. It extracted brandy from pota- 
toes. It sought a substitute for West India sugar in grapes and 
figs, and at last found it in the beet-root. In many ways, it 
contributed to render life more agreeable, subsistence less costly 
and labor more remunerative. Jean Antoine Chaptal, the first 

1 L'Europe sous NapoliSon, iii. 239. 



THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES. 275 

producer of sulphuric acid, was at the head of these beneficent 
and fruitful investigations. 

In other fields of inquiry, equal success was obtained. The 
capacity of heat was determined by the calorimeter ; the solar 
spectrum, the chemical action of light, the effect of surface upon 
radiation, were the objects of eager study. The gases of the air 
and water were separated, and the first experiments upon illumi- 
nating gas were made. Steel was brought to perfection, the 
atmosphere was weighed, a theory upon fulminating powders 
was produced, the diamond was analyzed, fossils and petrifac- 
tions were restored. 

Cuvier now completed his sublime interpretation of the geolo- 
gy of the book of Genesis. Jussieu perfected and extended the 
botanic classification of Linnaeus ; he advised the introduction 
into France of the Malaga sweet potato, and the Swedish ruta- 
baga. Geoffroy St. Hilaire measured the muscular power of the 
electric eel and the torpedo, and studied the habits of the kanga- 
roo. The Academy busied itself with the architecture of bees, with 
the sensitive wings of the bat, with the reproductive capacity of 
the salamander, with the torpor of the marmot and dormouse dur- 
ing their lethargic winter slumbers, and with the inky discharges 
of the cuttle-fish. All these studies were encouraged by Napo- 
leon, while successful application was munificently rewarded. 
The Voltaic pile was to the Emperor an object of intense interest 
and curiosity ; and he for a time believed, that this singular in- 
strument would reveal the origin of life, and snatch from the 
grave its secret and its mystery. 

In his relations with scientific men, Napoleon made an im- 
mense and fatal error. He regarded the application of steam to 
locomotion as puerile and visionary. As early as 1802, a rough 
experiment had been made with a barge fitted with a clumsy 
engine, upon the canal de I'Oui'cq, near Paris ; its success was 
sufficient to demonstrate the feasibility of the project. In 1803, 
Fulton, who had resided at Paris for seven years, made a trial 



276 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

of a steamboat of Ms construction upon the Seine. He offered 
the invention to Napoleon, whose Committee on the Navy re- 
jected it, as inapphcable and useless. The French have since 
regretted this indiffei'ence of Napoleon for the most powerful 
motor of modern times. "His disdain for this invention," says 
Capefigue, "is an unfortunate circumstance in his history. 
Steam would have bridged the Enghsh channel, and have landed 
an army without obstacle upon the shores of Great Britain. 
This gigantic bridge Napoleon had often dreamed of, as of 
Dante's in the Inferno. When seas of a thousand leagues shall be 
crossed in a week, it will be sad and fatal that the name of Na- 
poleon can have no place in the annals of the new civilization."^ 

One of the scientific glories of the Empire was the return to 
the Gregorian calendar, in the computation and measure of time. 
Laplace, the astronomer, recommended the change, in a memorial 
addressed, by order of Napoleon, to the Senate. The republican 
calendar was instituted by the Convention on the 5th of October, 
1793, and declared to have gone into operation on the 22d of 
September of the preceding year, the day of the installation of 
the Convention. The repubhcan year was divided into twelve 
months of thirty days each. Each mouth consisted of three 
decades of ten days ; Sunday, instead of returning every seventh 
day, and being called Dimanche, returned every tenth day, and 
was called Decadi. As this division of the year accounted for 
three hundred and sixty days only, the other five were called 
supplementary days, or " saus-culottides." The three hundred 
and sixty-sixth day of leap year received the name of " fran- 
ciade." The names of the days in the decade were as follows : 
primidi, duodi, tridi, quartidi, quintidi, sextidi, septidi, octidi, 
nonidi, decadi. 

The confusion resulting from this innovation was indescriba- 
ble. The necessity of double dates isolated France commercially 
from the rest of Europe. Its trade was large with Russia, and 

1 L'Enrope sous Napol6ou, vii. 7. 



THE REPUBLICAN CALENDAR. 277 

as the Greek calendar of that power was, as it still is, twelve 
days behind the Gregorian, three dates were required in all cor- 
respondence with the dominions of the Czar. The inconveni- 
ences of the decade were harassing, and indeed odious. A lady 
who gave receptions on quintidis, expected her guests Wednesday 
in one week, Saturday in the next, and, omitting the third week, 
on Tuesday of the fourth. Decadi came on Friday and on Mon- 
day, and alternately on every day of the seven. 

The newspapers of the period were full of amusing chronicles 
of the struggles for supremacy between Monsieur Dimanche and 
Madame la Decade. The government manufactory of Sevres, 
following the republican calendar, rang its bell to summon the 
hands to labor on the Gregorian Sunday ; while they, faithful to 
tradition and the almanac of their youth, chose to employ it as a 
day of rest. Upon the republican Decadi, on the contrary, they 
gathered to their allotted tasks, unsummoned by the bell. M. 
Genissieux, Minister of Justice, publicly reprimanded a provin- 
cial functionary for holding audience on decadis, and reposing on. 
the Sabbath. 

On the other hand, the advantages of the new calendar were 
manifest. The months were of uniform length, and the seasons 
commenced with the months, instead of on the 2 2d day of the 
months of the Gregoiian calendar. The name of each month sug- 
gested its characteristic in the meridian of Paris — as the month 
of wind, the month of rain, the month of blossom arid the month 
of harvest, instead of a system of nomenclature derived obscurely 
from mythology and classic history. The French reformers of 
fifty years ago did not consider themselves bound by the views 
which had governed Numa Pompilius, who gave February 28 
days, that the month of Expiation might be a brief one ; nor by 
those which had actuated Julius Caesar in his distribution of 
seven odd days between January, July, August and December ; 
nor yet by the considerations held by Pope Gregory XIII. Again, 
the year of the new calendar commenced at the autumn equinox. 



278 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON.' 

the 22d of September, when the days and the nights were twelve 
hours each, while the Roman calendar placed the first of January- 
nine days after the winter solstice. 

The decade fell into disrepute as early as 1797, in which year 
a G-regorian Sunday, falling upon New Year's day, was feasted 
and feted like a prodigal son recovered. Under the Empire, the 
provinces, which had never become accustomed to the change, 
were clamorous for the cities and the capital to return to the Old 
Style of computation. On the 1st of January, 1806, France re- 
sumed the reckoning of time by the Gregorian calendar, after 
thirteen years' trial of the calendar of the RepubHc. The impe- 
rial decree to that effect was received with gratitude throughout 
the country. L'An XIII. and last of the republican era, con- 
sisted of fourteen months, to compensate for the short measure 
of 1793, I'An I., in which there had been but ten. 

The abolition of the calendar did not draw with it, as was 
feared, the suppression of that other republican conquest — the 
decimal system of weights and measures. The government pro- 
nounced strongly for the maintenance of this system, and pro- 
mised to generalize its use by all means in its power. Biot and 
Francois Arago were sent to continue to the Balearic Isles, 
the measurement of the arc of the meridian, already carried to 
Barcelona by Delambre and M^chain. The system has triumphed 
over opposition and tradition ; the metre has successfully replaced 
the aune, and the kilogramme has triumphantly superseded the 
pound. 

We have already had occasion to speak of Napoleon's high 
appreciation of men of science. One instance of his treatment 
of theorists will suffice. He placed no confidence in the phreno- 
logical system of Dr. Gall, and on all occasions sought to throw 
ridicule upon him and his labors. He said one day to a lady 
who was inclined to patronize the doctor, "Well, I suppose we 
must have some consideration for men of science, even though 
they be fools. And what has the doctor told you ?" Upon being 



DE. GALL — MAELZEL. 279 

acquainted with certain predictions he had made regarding one 
of her children, based upon an examination of his infant skull, he 
rephed, "Ah, he said that, did he ! A man like Dr. Gall is good 
for something, after all. I think I shall estabhsh him in a pro- 
fessorship, so that he may teach his system to all the surgeons 
and midwives in Paris. As soon as a child comes into the world, 
they will at once ascertain what it is destined to be : if it is 
strongly marked with the organs of murder or theft, they shall 
drown it at once, just as the Greeks used to stifle the bandy-leg- 
ged and the hunchbacked." 

In consequence of this imperial estimate of Dr. Gall and his 
labors, burlesque of his system and theory was one of the prin- 
cipal features of the carnival of the winter spent by the doctor 
at Paris. A troop of harlequins, pierrots, clowns, and fishwomen 
passed through the grand thoroughfares, feeling of their heads 
and seeking for the tell-tale protuberances. One of them bore 
a quantity of pasteboard heads, divided into bumps and localities, 
each marked with some ridiculous appellation, such as "Skull of 
a Thief," " Skull of a Bankrupt," " Skull of a Gentleman of the 
JSTineteenth Century." Seated upon a donkey, and his head to- 
wards the animal's tail, was a figure representing Dr. Gall him- 
self. Mother Goose rode behind him, and offered him trophies 
of scalps crowned with dandelion. The procession was closed by 
a colossal head upon diminutive shoulders, offering in its enor- 
mous and absurd phrenological developments, an amusing carica- 
ture of the learned doctor's hobby. 

At Schoenbrlln, near Yienna, Napoleon, on one occasion, 
saw Maelzel, the mechanician and inventor of the metronome and 
the Automaton Chess-player. He admired several of the artist's 
artificial limbs, and commissioned him to construct a new and 
commodious van for carrying the wounded from a field of battle. 
He expressed a desire to see the automaton, which was accord- 
ingly set up in one of the rooms of the palace. The Emperor 
sat down at the table opposite the Mask, saying, " Now, sir, for 



280 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

US two." The automaton bowed, and signified by a motion of 
the hand that Napoleon was to play first. The latter executed 
two or three moves, therefore, and then made a false play with a 
knight. The automaton bowed, took up the piece, and restored 
it to its place. Napoleon played imfairly again, and the autom- 
aton confiscated the piece. " That's just," said the Emperor, and 
cheated still again. The automaton shook his head, passed his 
hand across the board, overturned the men, and broke up the 
game. Napoleon complimented Maelzel highly, saying that he 
admired the very natural conduct of his mechanism in unex- 
pected situations more than he should have done any exhibition 
of regular and methodical skill. 

Upon the apparition of a comet of unusual size and remark- 
able brilliancy in 1811, the question was asked and debated in 
council, whether it was safe and advisable to allow the newspa- 
pers of Paris to discuss its mission, ai d the Academy of Sciences 
to chronicle and publish its behavior, "^t was decided that the 
community was sufficiently enlightened and free from supersti- 
tion, to hear the truth in regard to the errand and the conduct 
of the celestial stranger. The public bore the visitation with 
equanimity, though the lurid effulgence of its tail was weU cal- 
culated to kindle dismay. The police employed writers to ridi- 
cule and caricature the comet, in order to laugh the people out 
of any lingering belief in its dread and mysterious influence. 
This was the more necessary, as the constantly occurring confla- 
grations and even earthquakes might reasonably seem to be con- 
nected with the coming of the errant planet. Never did the 
vineyards of France yield a more luxurious return than under 
the gaze of this appalling, yet innocent, meteor. The " wine of 
the comet " obtained currency as the finest crop since the Revo- 
lution ; large quantities of it were carefully hoarded in cellars, 
that it might receive the benediction of time — the sacrament 
and flavor of dust. From that period to this, it has graced state 
occasions, and high nuptial and family festivities. The supply is 



INFLUENCE OF NAPOLEON UPON SCIENCE. 281 

now exceedingly scarce, if, indeed, it be not more prudent to be- 
lieve that it was long since exhausted. The guest before whom 
it is placed may reasonably believe that it is some other vintage 
in the masquerade of an assumed name. 

Thus it has been shown that Napoleon's reign was illustra- 
ted by numerous and useful discoveries and by uniform progress 
in science, and that men devoted to scientijfic pursuits were ad- 
mitted to his intimacy and rewarded by his munificence. Still, 
the immense strides that had been made before his accession to. 
power show, that in this branch of labor, France had little need 
of stimulus. It is more correct, therefore, to say that Napoleon 
recompensed science, than that he encouraged it ; he was its pa- 
tron rather than its promoter. He was the Maecenas of savans, 
not their Charlemagne. 



CHAPTER IIIV. 

Hortense de Beauharnais — Her Education — Talent for Amateur Theatricals — Calumny — A Ma- 
niac Lorer — Duroc — Louis Bonaparte — Official Poetry — The Throne of Holland — Death of 
Napoleon-Charles — Birth of Louis Napoleon and de Morny — Hortense at Aix ; at Malmaison ; 
at the Court of Louis STIIL — The Return of Napoleon — The Necklace — Chateau of Arenen- 
berg — Death and WiU of Queen Hortense — ^Education and Life of de Morny — Modern French 
Biography. 

HORTENSB-BUG-ENIE, daughter of Josephine by her first 
husband, Vicomte Alexandre de Beauharnais, was born at 
Paris, on the 10th of April, 1783. Thi-ee years afterwards she 
accompanied her mother to the island of Martinique, the home 
of Josephine's now aged and infirm relatives. They returned to 
France at the commencement of the revolution. Their poverty 
was such — for Josephine was alienated from her husband, and had 
no resources of her own — that Hortense was glad to accept, from the 
boatswain's mate of the vessel in which they had taken passage, a 
pair of shoes that his daughter had already worn. On their ar- 
rival at Paris, influential friends sought to bring Beauharnais and 
his wife together again. Hortense was the means of effecting a 
reconciliation. She was presented to her father in the costume 
of a Creole boy. The vicomte, who had tUl that moment doubted 
her relationship to himself, and had for this reason separated from 
Josephine, exclaimed, " "Tis I, I myself at the age of seven years ! 
I recognize my own features !" Turning to his father, who was 
present, and who had been much afflicted by the estrangement, he 
said in Latin, " Verum putas baud aegre, quod valde expetis :" " It 
is not difficult to believe true what we ardently wish may be so." 




Draw.by J. Champagne . 



aoaiPEMSi 



HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS. 283 

At the commencement of the revolution, Hortense and her 
brother Eugene were intrusted to the care of the Princess de 
HohenzoUern-Sigmaringen. Their father was arrested upon the 
charge of giving his influence to the monarchists, and soon per- 
ished upon the scaffold. Their mother was thrown into prison, 
from whence the fall of Robespierre delivered her, as has been 
already narrated. At the age of thirteen, Hortense became the 
daughter-in-law of Napoleon Bonaparte, and was placed under 
the care of Madame Campau, at St. Germain. She received at 
the hands of this celebrated lady the showy and somewhat unsub- 
stantial education given at that time to the daughters of people 
of fashion and of elegant associations : that education which re- 
gards accomplishments as superior to acquirements ; a finish of 
the person, of the manners, of the exterior, rather than a cultiva- 
tion of the mind. Hortense was an apt scholar, and her charm- 
ing disposition rendered her the favorite of the school and the 
cherished pupil of the instructress. During the absence of Bona- 
parte in Egypt, Josephine recalled her home, and from this mo- 
ment to her marriage the mother and daughter were inseparable 
companions. 

Bonaparte became consul in December, 1799, Hortense attain- 
ing about the same period her eighteenth year. She was at this 
time a very pretty and pleasing young lady. Her light silken hair 
played round a face of pure pink and white, though her color was 
slight, and her complexion therefore rather pale than florid. Her 
eyes were of a soft and penetrating blue. Her figure was slender, 
and her carriage graceful. Her hands were white, her feet small and 
well-made. Her manner was engaging, combining the stimulating 
vivacity of a Frenchwoman with the languid suavity of a Creole.* 
She was witty, but not caustic. She cultivated flowers, and suc- 
cessfully transferred their color and forms to paper. She com- 
posed and sang ballads, and was an excellent amateur actress. 

* The portrait of Hortense, upon the opposite page, is taken from a copy of David's original, in the Histo- 
rical Gallery at Versailles. The original is in the possession of the present Emperor of the French. 



284 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

To the chateau of Malmaison was attached a private theatre, 
and in 1800 it was resolved to make it subservient to the 
amusement of its inmates. Hortense had been successful at 
Madame Campan's in the character of Esther — a tragedy written 
expressly by Racine for amateur performers — and her mother 
thought her dramatic talents might be usefully employed in divert- 
ing the First Consul. Napoleon assumed the duties of director : 
that is, he selected the plays and distributed the characters. 
"The Barber of Seville," by Beaumarchais, the comedy upon 
which Rossini's opera of the same name is founded, was the first 
selection. The cast was as follows : 



EOSINA, 


Hortense de Beauharnais, 


Alma VIVA, 


General Lauriston, 


Figaro, 


M. Didelot, 


Basils, 


Eugene de Beauharnais, 


Bartholo, 


Bourrieime, 


L'EVBILLE, 


Savary. 



Napoleon startled his actors by informing them, during the 
last rehearsal, that he had invited forty persons to dinner, and 
one hundred and fifty besides to witness the performance, includ- 
ing the cabinet, the senate, and the diplomatic corps ! He him- 
self sat in a stage box, and succeeded in disconcerting his troupe 
by a quizzical smile and an incessant scrutiny. The stars of the 
company were Bourrienne, Eugene and Hortense. The latter 
charmed the auditory by the graceful and yet spirited manner 
in which she rendered the character of the fair Andalusian. Her 
costume — ^the traditional pink and black assigned to Rosina — 
became her complexion in its color, and her form in its fashion. 
General Savary's character, though not arduous, was certainly 
fatiguing, for it compelled him to sneeze at intervals during 
three mortal hours. 

The affection of Bonaparte for his amiable daughter-in-law, 
which was very marked, and the simple fact that she never looked 



HORTENSE AND HER SUITORS. 285 

him in the eye and always quailed before his glance, gave rise to 
an odious, persistent and wide-spread calumny. It incensed Bo- 
naparte, harassed Josephine, afflicted Hortense and afterwards 
embittered her relations with her husband, and was in a great 
measure the cause of their discord and consequent separation. 

One of the earliest victims of the beauty and graces of M'Ue 
Hortense was a poor lunatic, whose weak brain was quite over- 
powered by so many attractions. He followed her with frantic 
declarations of love, and lamentable prayers for compassion ; he 
tossed odes in at her carriage window, sent her locks of hair 
through the mail, and besieged her door and lattice at night. 
This amused her for a time, but the unhappy maniac soon re- 
quired the restraint of a strait-jacket, and Bonaparte sent him to 
a retreat for the insane, many leagues removed from the cruel 
object of his affections. 

M'Ue Beauharnais was herself destined to be crossed in love. 
She cherished a secret and a hopeless passion. Bonaparte, in the 
meantime, was desirous of bestowing her hand upon Duroc : he 
was ready to give the bride half a million francs in dower, and to 
make Duroc commandant of the eighth military division. Jose- 
phine opposed the plan with all the force of her arguments, her 
caresses and her tears. Her own desire was to unite her daugh- 
ter with Napoleon's moody brother, Louis Bonaparte. He was 
the only one of her brothers-in-law to whom she could look for 
friendship and protection against the hostilities and persecutions 
of her husband's family ; and she devoted herself with untiring 
perseverance to effect her object and consummate the alliance. 
The First Consul, in the full expectation that Hortense would 
marry Duroc — for she had expressed her willingness — had given 
to the latter the very flattering mission of complimenting Alex- 
ander upon his accession to the throne of Russia. During his 
absence, his correspondence with Hortense passed through the 
hands of Bourrienne, who was in the habit of playing chess in the 
evening with her, and who used to whisper across the board, 



286 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

" J'ai une lettre." Duroc, on his return, did not press his suit, 
either because his own feelings were not deeply enUsted, or be- 
cause he was acquainted with the young lady's prior attachment. 
Josephine's influence would, in any case, have been too powerful 
for resistance. On the 7th of January, 1802, the marriage was 
solemnized between Hortense de Beauharnais and Louis Bona- 
parte. The bride wept during the ceremony, and after it was 
performed, withdrew in tears to the embrasure of a window, while 
her taciturn husband, with discontented and lowering brow, stood 
aloof from the assembled guests. "Never," says Louis himself 
in his memoirs, ' ' was there a more gloomy ceremony ; never had 
husband and wife a stronger presentiment of aU the horrors of 
a forced and ill-assorted marriage." It was, indeed, one of the 
most uncongenial matches ever formed from considerations of per- 
sonal advantage or the exigencies of state policy. 

The alliance took the public by surprise, and the calumnious 
report of which we have spoken now spread from one extremity 
of Europe to the other. The marriage was put forth in pamph- 
lets and libels circulated with zeal by the royalists, as a cover and 
a diversion ; Louis was mocked and derided as the scape-goat of 
his brother's immoralities. Seven months afterwards, the English 
papers stated that Hortense had given birth to a son. Bonaparte 
was shocked at this premature announcement, knowing as he did 
that it was intended to give color to the story of his relations 
with his daughter-in-law before she became the wife of his bro- 
ther. The means he adopted to refute the calumny evince a re- 
markable turn for petty machination. He ordered a baU to be 
given at Malmaison, and insisted that Hortense should dance a 
quadrille, in spite of her situation. She resisted, but was com- 
pelled to yield. The next morning a piece of poetry appeared in 
one of the papers, complimenting Hortense upon the grace she 
had displayed under trying and unusual circumstances. The sub- 
ject of the verses was mortified, and complained to Bonaparte, 
saying that however ready and facile might be the poets of the 



HORTENSE AND LOUIS BONAPARTE. 287 

time, she hardly believed that the stanzas in question had been 
composed and printed between twelve at night and six in the 
morning. Bonaparte replied vaguely, and changed the subject. 
Hortense subsequently learned from Bourrienne that the poetry 
was written before the ball took place : that the ball was given 
to furnish an occasion for the poetry, and that she had been made 
to dance in order to justify its theme. The motive for this little 
intrigue was the necessity of showing the statements of the Eng- 
lish papers to be unfounded ; and the refutation was the more 
efficacious from the fact that it was thus indirect and apparently 
accidental. 

Some time afterwards, Bonaparte said to Bourrienne: "That 
story of my connection with Hortense is still circulating." "I 
confess," said Bourrienne, "that I did not suppose it would live 
so long." " I expect of you," returned Bonaparte, " if you ever 
write your memoirs, that you will wash my hands of this infa- 
mous accusation : I do not wish such a reproach to escort me to 
posterity."^ 

Josephine was naturally afflicted by the rumor thus revived, 
and Napoleon in reassuring her unwittingly augmented her dis- 
tress. He sought to persuade her that the extraordinary publi- 
city which had been given throughout France to the report, was 
due to the desire of the country that he should have an heir, and 
that, despaiiing of one from a legitimate source, it seized with 
avidity upon a story which attributed to him even a bastard off- 
spring. This singular method of administering consolation very 
naturally added to Josephine's apprehensions of a divorce, of 
which, thus early, she had an anxious presentiment. 

"Louis and Hortense lived happily but a few months," said 
Napoleon at St. Helena ; " great exactions on his part, and great 
inconstancy on hers — these were their mutual wrongs. She was 
capricious, and affected independence. Louis placed no reliance 
on the rumor which made me the father of her first son, but his 



288 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

self-love and peculiar temper were shocked by it, and he after- 
wards made it the pretext for misconduct of his own. The 
match was due to the intrigues of Josephine, who was prompted 
to it in furtherance of her own private interests." 

The first son of Hortense was born towards the close of 1802, 
ten months after her marriage. The infant was held at the bap- 
tismal font by Napoleon, who would have adopted him and 
made him his heir to the throne, had not Louis withheld his con- 
sent, to the great chagrin of Josephine, who already despaired 
of again becoming a mother. Napoleon, however, considered him 
as his heir, though he could not make him his son. A second 
son was born to Hortense and Louis in the year 1804. 

With the proclamation of the Empire, came the distribution of 
thrones among Napoleon's brothers and sisters. Hortense would 
have preferred that of Naples, but political necessities conferred 
the Sicilian crown upon Joseph. "I would have re-kindled," 
says Hortense in her memoirs, "the flame of the fine arts in 
Italy. I would have revived the reign of the Medici, and of the 
house of Este. But alas ! I was destined to reside in Holland, a 
kingdom heavy with fog, without sun, and without poetry, a 
country of thick and phlegmatic burgomasters." She spent a 
part of the years 1806-7 at her capital city of the Hague. The 
portion of the palace occupied by her was plainly and unexpen- 
sively furnished, in order not to shock the simple tastes of her 
thrifty subjects. Her life here was unhappy for many reasons : 
she had no affection for her husband ; she was separated for the 
first time from her mother ; the landscape of marshes and dikes 
which surrounded her, and the wearisome Dutch society with 
which she was brought in contact, were saddening features of 
a disheartening exile. A calamity now occurred, which changed 
the fortunes of the whole Bonaparte family ; her eldest son died 
of a sudden attack of croup. The shock of this loss, and the 
consequent grief and despair in which it plunged her, exerted a 
lasting and injurious effect upon her constitution. The blow was 



QUEEN HOETENSE IN PARIS. 289 

a fatal one to Josephine ; for she felt that her divorce was involved 
in the death of Napoleon's heir adoptive. The Emperor had been 
very fond of his nephevf, and had encouraged his early fancy for 
drums and mimic fire-arms. He, too, was deeply affected by the 
loss, and from this moment his intercourse with Josephine became 
reserved and unsympathetic. The remains of young Napoleon 
Charles were removed to Paris, and temporarily deposited in the 
cathedral of Notre Dame. 

Queen Hortense was ordered by her physician to travel in 
order to recruit her health, undermined by the grief consequent 
upon her loss. She at once left Holland, and never resumed her 
position as the wife of Louis Bonaparte. She spent some time in 
the Pyrenees, winning the affections of the peasants among whom 
she dwelt, by her benevolence and the placid graces of her man- 
ner. In the autumn, she visited Paris, and her house became 
the resort of the artists and musicians of the time : David, 
Isabey, Gerard. It was at this period that she composed the 
ballad of " Partant pour laSyrie," which has since become the 
present Emperor's March. Much to the regret of Napoleon, she 
lent her great artistic influence to the introduction of the Gothic 
style of furniture. This style, now known as that of the Empire, 
fell into disrepute with the restoration of the Bourbons. 

Madame Mere was dissatisfied with the conduct of her 
daughter-in-law, whom she considered as playing truant from 
her husband at the Hague. She, therefore, wrote a paragraph 
to the effect that Queen Hortense, having somewhat recovered 
from her late indisposition, intended to return at once to Hol- 
land. This she caused to be inserted in the Journal des Debats 
of October 17th, 1807. Hortense was naturally indignant at 
this piece of dictation, but as it was impossible to contradict the 
Empress Dowager in a newspaper, she could only pubhsh the 
certificate of her physicians, to the effect that in spite of her ar- 
dent desire to rejoin her husband, the state of her health neces- 
sitated a prolonged stay in France. 

37 



290 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

On the 20tli of April, 1808, she gave birth, in the palace of the 
Tuileries, to her third son, Charles Loms ISTapolkon, now Empe- 
ror of the French. This prince was the first of the Napoleon dy- 
nasty to receive military honors at his birth, which was welcomed 
throughout France by the official rejoicings of government can- 
non. Shortly afterwards, Louis Bonaparte begged Napoleon to 
grant him a divorce from Hortense. Napoleon refused, though he 
promised, at a more fitting period, to arrange a separation. 

At the divorce of Josephine, Hortense supported her mother 
to her chair. The former was dressed in white muslin, the latter 
in black velvet. Napoleon afterwards' reproached her for what 
he pronounced an unseemly affectation of woe, in her choice of a 
costume and a color. 

Louis Bonaparte was soon compelled, by political complica- 
tions, to abdicate his throne. He retired to Gratz, in Styria. 
He was declared to be separated from Hortense by Napoleon, who 
endowed the late queen with two million francs a year, and in- 
trusted to her the care and education of both her sons. She con- 
tinued to reside in Paris, visiting her divorced mother at Mal- 
maison on every alternate day, giving the other days of the week 
to formal attendance at the palace of Marie Louise, whose train 
she had been compelled to bear, on her marriage with Napoleon 
at Notre Dame. 

On the 22d of October, 1811, Hortense gave birth to a fourth 
son, on whom was bestowed the name of de Morny. No secret was 
ever made of the paternity of this child, it being attributed to, and 
tacitly acknowledged by, M. de Flahaut, general of division and 
aid-de-camp of the Emperor. Of the son we shall have occasion 
to speak presently ; of the father, Napoleon himself has left a 
description. This is doubtless in some degree unjust, owing to the 
antipathy the Emperor felt for elegant accomplishments and the 
ordinary qualifications of a man of fashion. Josephine one day 
said of M. de Flahaut that he possessed a variety of talents. 
"What are they ?" said Napoleon. " Sense ? Bah ! who has not 



HORTENSE AND LOUIS XVIII. 291 

as much as he ? He sings well, you say ; a fine thing for a sol- 
dier, who should be hoarse by profession. He is a beau, you 
mean ; that is what pleases you women. I see nothing so extra- 
ordinary in him ; he is just like a spider, with his eternal legs ; 
his legs are quite unnatural ; to be well-shaped" — looking at his 
own and acting, though not uttering, the concluding phrase — "to 
be well-shaped, his legs should be like these." 

During the summer of 1813, Queen Hortense lost by a terri- 
ble accident her earliest and most constant friend — Adele Auguie 
at school, the Countess de Brocq by marriage. During an excur- 
sion in the neighborhood of Aix, this unfortunate lady fell from 
a precipice into a mountain torrent. Her body was recovered 
mutilated and lifeless. By order of Hortense a marble monument 
was erected to her memory upon the scene of the catastrophe. 

During the calamities of 1814, Hortense and her ladies busied 
themselves in preparing lint for the military hospitals. Upon 
the fall of Napoleon, she joined her mother at Malmaison, where 
they received Alexander and the other monarchs of the alliance. 
The attentions of Alexander to Hortense were very marked ; she 
reciprocated his kindness by saving his life. He was visiting 
with her the machine at Marlj^, by which the water-works and 
cascades of Versailles are fed from the Seine. An incautious 
movement placed the Czar within reach of the ponderous w:heel, 
from which nothing but the energetic and well-timed effort of 
the queen could have extricated him in time. The interests of 
Hortense were consulted by the allies. Talleyrand, who had joined 
them, said of her: "She is the only lady of the family that I 
esteem." Louis XVIII. erected her country seat of St. Leu into 
a duchy, transmissible to her children. 

When Hortense laid aside the mourning which she had as- 
sumed upon the death of her mother, she paid her respects to 
Louis XVIII. at the Tuileries. The sovereign seemed to take 
great pleasure in her conversation, and she repeated her visit. 
One of his intimate courtiers said to him, " Why does not your 



292 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

Majesty arrange her divorce and marry her ? But your Majesty 
might do better than receive with this marked favor one whose 
relations with the enemy are so well known." Louis XVIII. 
never saw Queen Hortense again. She had endeavored to play 
a double part, and succeeded in offending both Bourbons and 
Bonapartes. Napoleon, on his return from Elba, received her 
coldl}'-, and told her she should either have followed him to Elba, 
or her husband to Rome ; and that she was wrong in accepting 
St. Leu from the Bourbons. But as she was the only lady of his 
family present in Paris, he restored her to favor, and she did the 
honors of the Hundred Days. After the battle of Waterloo she 
attended upon Napoleon at Malmaison, and as he departed upon 
his exile, gave him a diamond necklace for which, in happier 
days, she had paid eight hundred thousand francs. It was under 
Napoleon's pillow when he died at Longwood, and, by his order, 
was subsequentl}^ restored by Geuei'al Montholon to Hortense. 

Upon the second restoration of the Bourbons, she was natu- 
rally regarded with suspicion, and consequently lost her duchy 
of St. Leu. A verdict rendered in a suit brought against her by 
her husband, compelled her to give up to him her eldest son. 
Falling into want, she sold for a trifling sum a picture given her 
by Talleyrand, the cost of which had been sixteen thousand francs. 
An order was serve_d upon her to leave Paris within two hours. 
She departed, refusing however the proffered escort, and taking- 
no one with her but an Austrian aid-de-camp of nineteen years. 
In her wanderings, she was repulsed from Savoy and from Baden. 
She finally bought the chateau of Arenenberg, on the banks of 
Lake Constance, in the Swiss canton of Thurgovia, where she spent 
her summers, retiring to Rome in the winter, and sharing the Bor- 
gh^se palace and la Paolina villa with the princess Pauline. 

In 1830, her eldest surviving son married the second daughter 
of Joseph Bonaparte, and died the year after of inflammation of 
the lungs complicated with measles. Her third son, Louis Napo- 
leon, entered the school of engineers at Thiin, in Berne. She 



DEATH OF HORTENSE. 293 

was compelled to dispose of the necklace that had been restored 
to her by General Montholon. The King of Bavaria entered into 
an arrangement by which he agreed to take the jewels, and in 
return pay Hortense an annuity of twenty-three thousand francs. 
He was called upon to fulfill this stipulation for two years, only. 
The sagacious Bavarian obtained for the sum of forty-six thousand 
francs, diamonds valued at eight hundred thousand! In 1836, 
Louis Napoleon made his adventurous attempt at Strasburg, in 
consequence of which he was compelled to expatriate himself to 
America. The dying summons of his mother called him back 
to Arenenberg, early in the following year ; he arrived there in 
time to close her eyes and receive her blessing. She died on the 
3d of October, 1837. The government of Louis Philippe per- 
mitted her remains to be placed side by side with those of Jose- 
phine, in the village church of Rueil. 

The following is an extract from the will of Queen Hortense : 

"May my husband bestow one souvenir upon my memory, 
and may he believe that my greatest regret in dying is that I was 
unable to render him happy. 

' ' I pardon all the sovereigns with whom I have had relations 
of friendship, for the hasty judgment they passed upon me. 

" I pardon all ambassadors and charges d'affaires for the con- 
stant inaccuracy of their reports concerning me. 

"I pardon the few Frenchmen to whom I have been useful, 
for the calumnies with which they have loaded me, in acquittal of 
their obligations. I pardon those who believed them without ex- 
amination, and I hope to live for a time in the remembrance of 
my countrymen. 

" I HAVE NO POLITICAL ADVICE TO GIVE MY SON ChARLES LoUIS 

Napoleon. I know that he understands his position, and 

APPRECIATES THE DUTIES IMPOSED UPON HIM BY HIS NAME." 

The young man to whom this closing paragraph referred is 
now Emperor of the French. 

We now return to the fourth son of Queen Hortense, the 



294 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Count de Morny, who was born, as we have said, in 1811, at 
Paris. As it was impossible that he should remain at the resi- 
dence and under the charge of his mother, he was placed in the 
hands of his grandmother, once the Countess de Flahaut, but now, 
by a second marriage with a Portuguese noble, the Countess de 
Souza-Bothello. This lady, the authoress of " Adele de Senange," 
and " Eugene de Rothelin,"' two novels illustrative of the manners 
of society before the revolution, devoted herself zealously to the 
education of her grandson. He became a favorite with Talley- 
rand, and it is said that the latter predicted of him, when but 
twelve years old, that he would one day become a cabinet minister. 
He was graduated at the College Bourbon, a proficient in Greek 
and English, and as he grew in years, offered in his person and 
manners a lively souvenir of the grace and distinction which char- 
acterized the aristocracy of the old regime. He wrote verses, for 
which he also composed the music — a talent which he inherited 
from his mother ; he would even sing these ballads to intimate 
friends, in an agreeable, though somewhat feminine, tenor voice. 
He now entered one of the military schools, which he left at 
the age of twenty-one, entering the army as sub-lieutenant of 
lancers. Being quartered at Fontainebleau, he obtained from 
M. de Montalivet, Minister of the Interior, free access to the U- 
brary attached to the palace. He studied, principally, works upon 
metaphysics and theology, giving as a reason for his inquiries 
into religion, that "he wished to settle that question at once." 
He joined the African army, and was present at the siege of 
Constantine as orderly officer of General Trezel, whose life he 
■ saved. For this act, and for having received four Arab bullets, 
none of which injured him, Louis Phihppe made him Chevalier 
of the Legion of Honor. At Mascara, de Morny was lying one 
evening, wrapped up in his cloak, on the banks of a river. He 
was suffering from an attack of fever and ague. An officer whom 
he did not know, approached him, and said, " M. de Morny, 
you are unwell ; wiU you permit me to offer you an orange ?" 



THE COUNT DE MORNY. 295 

"Many thanks," returned de Morny. "To whom do I owe this 
kindness?" " To Captain Changarnier." On the 2d of Decem- 
ber, 1851, Captain, now General Changarnier, was exiled from 
France, by order of the Minister of the Interior, de Morny. 

M. de Morny resigned his commission in the army in 1838, 
having been refused a furlough which he considered essential to 
the restoration of his enfeebled health. He bought large landed 
estates in the department of le Puy-de-D6me, and introduced 
there the manufacture of native sugar. He was so successful in 
this that the congress of sugar-raisers which assembled soon after 
at Paris, and which consisted of four hundred members, made 
him, the youngest delegate, their president. The shire town of his 
department, Clermont, sent him to the Chamber of Deputies, in 
1842. His promises to the electors, he used to say, were limited 
to the prediction of an eclipse of the sun for the 10th of the month. 
He obtained credit as an orator and as a publicist, and M. Guizot, 
the President of the Council of Ministers, was disposed on one 
occasion to make him cabinet minister.^ He espoused the inter- 
ests of his half-brother, Louis Napoleon, in 1848, and was one of 
his most active coadjutors in the coup d'etat of December, 1851. 
He became Minister of the Interior on the consummation of that 
event, and remained so till the 23d of January of the following 
year. Occupying a position which afforded him both opportunity 
and capital, he entered the field of industrial and real estate spec- 
ulation ; the result showed him to be possessed of high financial 
and commercial capabilities. He became one of the railroad kings 
of France, and in a comparatively short period realized a princely 
fortune. He was made Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor, in 
1852, on the anniversary of the coup d'etat; President of the 
Legislative Assembly, in 1854 ; and upon the restoration of peace 
with Russia, early in 1856, French ambassador to the court of 
St. Petersburg. 

The rigid system of censure to which the press is at present 



296 THE COUKT OF NAPOLEON. 

subjected in France, has produced a new style of biography, which 
may be called with propriety the inferential style. On one subject 
— parentage — it leaves the reader either in profound ignorance, 
or compels him to undertake a tedious process of deduction. 
Thus Dr. Veron, in his sketch of the life of de Morny — which the 
subject of it has publicly declared "to be of the most scrupulous 
exactitude," and which is the only biography of that gentleman 
yet issued in France — avoids all mention of his mother ; not even 
by an indirect allusion giving the inquirer the least enlight- 
enment in the matter of his maternity. He resorts to an inge- 
nious circumlocution to acquaint the reader with the facts of his 
origin on the father's side. Young de Morny was educated, he 
says, by his grandmother, Madame de Souza. He then details 
the history of Madame de Souza, and states that she had pre- 
viously borne the title of Countess de Flahaut, and had a son by 
her first husband. As it does not appear that she ever had any 
other son, it is clear to the mind that is awake to processes of rati- 
ocination, that it could only be he that had made her a grand- 
mother. She had one son, and one grandson ; the former is, 
therefore, by inference, the father of the latter. The Parisian 
reader is to presume, therefore, that M. de Flahaut was the father 
of M. de Morny. It is nowhere said, however, that M. de Morny 
had a father, or that M. de Flahaut had a son, but Madame de 
Souza had a grandson. M. de Flahaut and de Morny are never 
represented as in each other's company but once, and then on 
Talleyrand's staircase, the former holding the latter by the hand. 

This school of biography is in direct opposition to that whose 
practice it is to trace the ancestry of its subject back to the Cru- 
sades or the Norman Conquest, or to the Mayflower and the Pil- 
grim Fathers. 

On the eve of the coup d'6tat, de Morny was told by a lady 
that he must expect to be swept away in the revolution the peo- 
ple were preparing. "Madame," he replied, "if there is to be any 
brooming in Paris, I shall try to be on the side of the handle." 



CHAPTER IIV. 

The Art of Painting under Louis XIV. — Watteau — Painting under Louis XV. — Boucher — Napo- 
leon and David — The Picture of the Coronation — Cardinal Caprara and his Wig — The Portrait 
of Kapoleon and the Marquis of Douglas — David's Coat of Arms — Gerard — Girodet — Guerin 
— Isabey — Gros — The Plague of Jaffa — Napoleon and Desgenettes — Gericault — The Spolia- 
tion of Italy — Foreign Works of Art at the Louvre — Their Restoration by the Allies — Sculp- 
ture under Napoleon — Canova at Paris — His Interview with Napoleon — Houdon — Chaudet — 
Music during the Empire — Mehul — Lesueur — Boieldieu — Spoutini — Cherubini — Napoleon's 
Influence upon Art. 

THE art of painting, in France, during the century preceding 
the Revolution, had been singularly neglected. Its scope had 
been narrowed, its aim and purpose degraded. The age of Louis 
XIV. was, nevertheless, one, it would seem, to stimulate to the 
production of epics and chefs-d'oeuvre, as well in the arts as in 
hterature. And yet Watteau, the fan-painter and illuminator of 
screens and panels, was the grand monarch's artist-laureate ; he 
was, too, the favorite during the Regency. His subjects were fawns, 
satyrs, f§tes champetres and masquerades ; nymphs, hoydens and 
soldiers. Dolce far niente was their occupation ; basking in the 
sunshine, seeking shade and shelter in bowers or beneath fringy 
parasols, their pastime ; and, from time to time, piping upon a 
bunch of tuneful reeds, the application of their feeble energies. 
In painting, at least, the age was bucolic, pastoral ; the woods 
were peopled with the grotesque creations of mythology, and 
the lawns dotted with beings quite as fanciful — ^ladies of rank ha- 
bited as shepherdesses, and fashionable courtiers in the guise of 
rustic swains ; and all engaged with crooks and wands in guarding 
troops of sentimental and coquettish sheep. Watteau's figures, 
says an authority, are imaginary, and illustrate the impossible ; 

38 



298 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

yet, to the eye, they present that familiar grace which we call 
gentility. His soldiers are careless and slouching, and aspire to 
be agreeable as well as victorious. 

Under Louis XY., Boucher was the court painter, and his 
amative pastorals and rural elegies soon obtained for him the 
name of the Anacreon of his art. Like Watteau, he illustrated 
the court festivities, and represented the age as tawdry, frivolous 
and lackadaisical. They both of them employed to good purpose 
the colors of the prism, while they neglected or disregarded the 
pure lines and correct drawing of that useful little trihedron. 
Their works are acknowledged to have done great and lasting 
injury to French art, and to be poor and paltry representatives 
of a school and a century. They are, nevertheless, pleasing to 
look upon, and repose the eye agreeably after a battle-piece, a 
storm at sea, or a martyrdom from Scripture. 

A reaction took place, just before the Revolution, under the 
auspices of Jacques Louis David. Drawing had previously been 
sacrificed to color, and now color was, in its turn, sacrificed to 
drawing. David's style is a labored imitation of the Greek sculp- 
tures : his figures are like statues colored and endued with mo- 
tion ; his subjects were usually groups, either partially or totally 
naked ; the composition was classical, the color hard and glaring, 
and the effect artificial and theatrical. It has been aptly said 
that his pictures recall the uplifting of a stage-curtain when the 
whole company are assembled in one tableau. He executed his 
Belisarius, the Death of Socrates, the Loves of Paris and Helen, 
and the famous Oath of the Horatii, before the advent of Napo- 
leon. 

"The Bmpei-or," said David, some years subsequently, "with- 
out, perhaps, being a passionate lover of the Pine Arts, knew 
their importance in a state. He was anxious that they should 
engross a large share of public attention. I went to pay my re- 
spects to him immediately after the 18th Brumaire. As soon as 
he saw me, he saluted me by the title of the Prench Apelles, and 



PAINTING UNDER NAPOLEON. 299 

asked me upon what subject I was engaged. I replied, ' Leonidas 
at Tliei-mopyla3.' He shrugged his shoulders, and said: 

" 'Ah, David, you are always painting the Greeks and Ro- 
mans, and, what is worse, the conquered ! Yes, citizen David, 
the conquered! Is it conformable to the principles of reason 
that three hundred men should face three millions ? If they do 
so, they are not heroes, but madmen, and should be sent to Bed- 
lam. All resistance should be rational, and should be founded 
upon a probability of success ; otherwise, whatever name may be 
given to it, it is pure extravagance, and ought not to be recorded 
in pictures, on account of the bad example which would thus be 
conveyed. A small number of men may cause the failure of a 
great movement by an imprudent and obstinate defence. I ad- 
vise you to make choice of some incident in our own history. 
Modern times offer plenty of good subjects.' 

"I was somewhat astonished by these remarks, which were 
by no means in accordance with my predilection for the antique. 
I approached the First Consul, and said, in a voice to be heard 
by him alone : ' Perhaps a coronation might meet with approval.' 
' Not just yet,' he replied, laughing. 'There is a wide difference, 
republican, between that and Thermopylse. However, do what 
you please ; your pencil will confer celebrity on any subject you 
may select. For every great historical picture you may choose 
to paint, you shall receive one hundred thousand francs.' " 

Upon the proclamation of the Empire, Napoleon made David 
his painter in ordinary, and instructed the Minister of the Inte- 
rior to order of him six large pictures for the Louvre. The 
Coronation was one of this series, the execution of which cost the 
artist many years of labor and involved him in constant annoy- 
ance and conflict. He could not resign himself to the painting 
of modern costumes, and he was compelled to submit to the ex- 
actions and encounter the susceptibilities of the numerous politi- 
cal personages who were to appear in the picture, and it was not 
till the spring of 1808 that Napoleon was admitted to see it. He 



300 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

expressed great admiration, and recognized the various portraits ; 
he said of Murat that his head was a Vesuvius, of Talleyrand that 
he was perhaps a little flattered, and of Fouch6 that his likeness 
was so correct as to be startling. As he was leaving the studio, 
he lifted his hat from his head, and, turning to the artist, said : 
" David, I salute you !" " Sire," replied David, " I receive your 
salutation in the name of the artists of France, and am happy to 
be the one to whom it is addressed." 

Cardinal Caprara, one of the aids of the Pope at the corona- 
tion, wore a perruque. In his portrait of the ceremony, David 
represented him bald. The cardinal begged the artist to restore 
the wig, a favor which was steadfastly refused. He then flew to 
Talleyrand, Minister of Foreign Affairs, and laid the case before 
him. "David represents me without my wig, when it is noto- 
rious that I wear one. Now, as no pope ever covers his head 
with a perruque, it will naturally be supposed that I am an as- 
pirant for the pontifical chair, in case of a vacancy !" This 
argument was communicated to David, who replied, "Caprara 
knows my taste for the nude ; he ought to be thankful that I 
have taken off nothing but his wig, and represented bald nothing 
but his head !" 

About this time, David painted for the English Marquis of 
Douglas a standing portrait of Napoleon of the size of life. He 
was accustomed to paint the imperial features without requiring 
Napoleon's personal attendance. The Emperor, therefore, knew 
nothing of this portrait, till it was brought one day to the Tuile- 
ries, for his inspection. It represented his Majesty in his cabinet, 
as he had risen from his desk after a night spent in writing — a 
circumstance indicated by candles burning in their sockets. Those 
who had seen it, considered it, as far as the head and features 
were concerned, the most perfect resemblance that had yet been 
obtained. 

Napoleon was delighted with it, and eagerly complimented 
David. " Still," said he, " I think that you have made my eyes 



NAPOLEON AND DAVID. 301 

rather too weary ; this is wrong, for working at night does not 
fatigue me ; on the contrary, it rests me. I am never so fresh 
in the morning as when I have dispensed with sleep. Who is 
the portrait for? Who ordered it? It was not I, was it?" 
"No, sire, it is intended for the Marquis of Douglas." "What, 
David," returned the Emperor, scowling, "is it to be given to an 
Englishman?" "Sire, he is one of your Majesty's greatest ad- 
mirers, and is, perhaps, the most sincere living appreciator of 
French artists." " Next to me," replied Napoleon, tartly. Af- 
ter a moment, he added, "David, I will buy the portrait my- 
self." " Sire, it is already sold." " David, I desire the portrait, 
I say; I will give thirty thousand francs for it." "Tour Ma- 
jesty, I cannot change its destination," said David, indicating, by 
, a descriptive gesture, that he had already been paid. " David," 
exclaimed Napoleon, " this portrait shall not be sent to England, 
do you hear ? I will return your marquis his money." " Surely 
your Majesty would not dishonor me ?" stammered the artist, at 
the same time noticing that the Emperor, having exhausted per- 
suasion, was preparing for active interference. "No, certainly; 
but what I will not do either, is to allow the enemies of France 
to possess me in their country, even on canvas." So saying, he 
directed a sturdy kick at the painting, and the imperial foot 
passed vigorously through it. Without a word, he quitted the 
apartment, leaving a wonder-stricken audience behind him. Da- 
vid had the picture carried back to his studio, and subsequently 
mended and restored it, and forwarded it to its owner. It is 
likely that the merit of the portrait, as a work of art and as a 
likeness, is now somewhat lost in the superior attractions of the 
patched rent, and that its value is considerably greater as a me- 
mento of his Majesty's wrath, than as a specimen of the skill of 
his artist-in-ordinary. 

Two days after the scene just described, David was sum- 
moned to the Tuileries, where Napoleon, taking and pressing his 
hand, begged him to bear no malice. "You see, David, I am 



302 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

jealous of tlie glory of French artists, and should be better 
pleased if all your chefs-d'oeuvre could be collected in the Louvre. 
Adieu, my friend ; both of us must forget what has happened." 
The next morning, David was promoted in the hierarchy of the 
Legion of Honor, and received the title of Baron of the Empire. 
Napoleon himself designed his coat of arms — a palette upon a 
golden ground, with the uplifted arm of Horatius holding the 
three swords intended for his sons. This was taken from David's 
composition of the Oath of the Horatii. Upon the fall of Napo- 
leon, David was exiled by the Bourbons, with those who had 
voted for the death of Louis XVI. He retired to Brussels, 
where he established a school, and painted his celebrated Cupid 
and Psyche, now in the Louvre. He died in 1825. 

Gerard, born in 1770, was a pupil of David, and for a time, 
in connection with Gros and Girodet, continued and confirmed 
the peculiarities of his style. His Battle of Austerlitz, and En- 
trance of Henry IV. into Paris, gave him a high reputation at 
an early age. He felt, however, that he was better fitted for 
the execution of poetic subjects than for the illustration of his- 
tory. He became, under the Empire, the first portrait painter 
of the day ; his gallery of Historical Portraits contains eighty- 
four likenesses, full length and of the size of life, besides two 
hundred of half length. Napoleon made Gerard also a Baron of 
the Empire. 

Girodet was, towards the middle of his career, the successful 
rival of his master, David, his " Deluge " obtaining a higher rank 
from the examining jury, than David's "Rape of the Sabines," 
its competitor. This decision, however, has been reversed by 
posterity. Girodet's "Burial of Atala" has been rendered fami- 
liar to Europe and America, by means of innumerable copies. 

Guerin illustrated mythology and classic history. His "Ph^- 
dre et Hippolyte," " Andromaque et Pyrrhus," and other similar 
works, now at the Louvre, are pleasing and poetic examples of 
the school of which David was the founder. 



ISABEY— GROS. 303 

The court portraitist was Jean Baptiste Isabey. He had 
studied for some time with David, but want of success in the 
speciahty of that artist determined him to adopt portrait paint- 
ing. Before the Revolution, he had obtained sufficient patronage 
to enable him to take the miniatures of Marie Antoinette and 
the Duke de Berry. After the revolution, he painted the por- 
traits of Josephine, Hortense, and General Bonaparte. He soon 
became the fashionable artist, and was attached to Madame 
Campan's seminary in the capacity of drawing master. When 
Napoleon became Emperor, he was appointed portraitist to the 
Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and in this capacity was afterwards 
sent to Vienna, to perpetuate upon ivory and other substances, 
the lineaments of the members of the House of Hapsburg. He 
made designs for Sevres porcelain, painted scenery for the 
Grand Opera, managed the court theatricals, and at last gave 
lessons in water colors to Marie Louise. The style that he 
founded, the great merit of which was the giving to miniatures 
all the depth and vigor of oil paintings, has survived him, 
though it has been since professed by artists immeasurably his 
inferiors. 

Gros, one of the pupils of David, and, perhaps, after him, 
the first painter of the epoch, furnished the world in his splen- 
did composition of the Plague of Jaffa, with the most audacious 
instance on record of falsification of history. The painting repre- 
sents Bonaparte in the hospital at Jaffa, touching the pustules 
of the sick and dying, and thus reassuring his soldiers. The truth 
is, this act of heroism was not performed by Bonaparte, but by 
Dr. Desgenettes, of the medical staff.^ 

A modern biography, written and published under Louis Phil- 
ippe, not only excuses, but applauds, this proceeding on the part 
of Gros. The following passage occurs in the French Plutarch, 
and is from the pen of a member of the Academy of the Pine Arts, 
the Vicomte de Senonnes : " Certainly if there is a fact contested 

1 Salgues' Memoirs, vi. 117. 



304 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

in history, it is that which suggested this magnificent work. The 
conscientious historian will assuredly not consult it as a reliable 
authority. A painter may dispense with that dry precision which 
forms the merit of the chronicler ; his mission is to furnish emo- 
tion and not documents, and when he hears of an incident, dis- 
torted but poetic, atoning for its lack of truth by its grandeur, he 
is not called upon to make further researches ; it is not his task to 
discuss probabilities, to dissipate doubts, to measure testimony, 
to determine conviction. He must move, seduce, startle. Whole 
generations will believe, through this painting, that the general-in- 
chief of the army of Egypt did not fear to show himself in the ter- 
rible hospital where death was accumulating its heaps of victims, 
and to appear as a father and a friend ; that he touched with his 
own hand the fearful marks of the scourge, and by this sublime 
act of virtue restored hope to the sick and confidence to the liv- 
ing. This is probably all that the people will know of the awful 
episode of the plague of Jaffa, and it is to the pencil of Gros that 
the memory of Bonaparte is indebted for this service. Such an 
act more than acquits the great painter of his obligations towards 
the great conqueror."^ 

How many admissions in this short extract — one emanating 
from the French Academy of Art! A painter may falsify fact, 
if he have court to make or protection to repay ; a painter of 
history may pervert history and be approved in it, if he succeed 
in embelUshing reality by the seductions of fiction, and in re- 
placing, in behalf of a monarch, an awkward truth by a fawning 
and soothing falsehood. It is a merit in an artist to mislead 
posterity and abuse the world, when M^cenas calls for flattery 
and Caesar clamors for incense. A painter may pay his debts by 
falsehood on canvas ; he may acquit his obligations by treach- 
erous perversions in oil. How degrading to art is such service, 
and how disgraceful in a Royal Academy is the holding and the 
propagation of such opinion ! 

1 Plutarque Frangais, viii. Art. Gros. 



THE PLAGUE OF JAFFA. 305 

It is certain that the heroism of the surgeon Desgenettes has 
been forgotten by the world, and is scantily mentioned in history. 
And yet it as fully deserves a place in the kindly memory of man- 
kind as the fidelity of Casablanca, the fortitude of Guatimozin, or 
the devotion of Pocahontas. Why has it disappeared from the 
weU-thumbed and famihar chronicles of deeds of courage and self- 
sacrifice ? Ask the gallery of the Louvre, where a picture, whose 
artistic merit makes it immortal and whose reputation gives it 
currency, has dressed the surgeon in the apparel of the general- 
in-chief, and has given him the stature and the lineaments of 
Napoleon. Such is history, as illustrated by an ofiicious art and 
a subservient artist ; such is one phase of the patronage of art, 
during the Consulate and the Empire. 

The popular story of Bonaparte's having touched the tumors 
of the plague-stricken was first denied by Bourrienne in his Me- 
moirs. " I walked," he says, " by the general's side, and I assert 
that I never saw him touch any of the infected. He proceeded 
quickly through the rooms, tapping the yellow top of his boot with 
a whip he held in his hand." This was in turn denied by the 
intendant-in-chief d'Aure, in a letter to the Journal des Debats, 
which that paper refused to insert. It was subsequently incorpo- 
rated in a volume entitled " Les Erreurs de Bourrienne," published 
at Brussels. The official report of what occurred at Jafi"a was 
drawn up by Berthier, under Bonaparte's eye. It does not con- 
tain the slightest mention of his touching the plague-spots ; and 
the " Scientific and Military History of the Egyptian Expedition " 
is equally silent, though it chronicles, and of course establishes, 
the devotion of Desgenettes. The article we have quoted plainly 
shows, by the apologies it offers for G-ros, that he must be con- 
sidered as having illustrated an event which had no existence 
except in complaisant and obsequious legend. 

It is worth mentioning that the Plague of Jaffa was executed 
upon a portion of the canvas, forty feet square, which had served 
for the rough draught of an intended painting of the Battle of 

39 



306 THE COUKT OF NAPOLEON. 

Nazareth, of which Junot was the hero. As the character of 
Napoleon developed itself, Gros became convinced that the First 
Consul and Emperor would prefer himself to furnish the themes 
for pictorial illustration, and that the artist who should devote 
his labor to embellishing the career of his lieutenants, would be 
more likely to compromise than to establish his reputation. 

Later artists emancipated themselves from the influence of 
the school of David and his pupils. G^ricault commenced this 
important reform. It occurred at the period of the immense 
popularity of the works of Lord Byron and of Schiller — whose 
themes are the dominant passions of humanity, and stirring pas- 
sages in modern and contemporaneous history. He felt that this 
field was open to artists of the brush as well as to artists of the 
pen. He chose for a subject the most harrowing incident of the 
century in French maritime annals : the "Wreck of the Medusa. 
' No picture has been more criticised and more extolled than this. 
Whatever may be its merits or demerits, it was the first of a 
school and contributed to the overthrow of what had beeu called 
" le beau id^al" — the illustration of the classics and of mythology. 
Gods, demigods, Horatii, Sabines, Dido, Phfedre, Ooriolanus, 
Andromaqvie, were abandoned for the study of nature, the deli- 
neation of the passions and the illustration of history. David's 
pictures still occupy the walls of the Louvre, but he has ceased 
to serve as a model or a teacher. The patronage bestowed by 
Napoleon upon French art may be said, as far as painting was 
concerned, to have given undue encouragement to a false and ar- 
tificial school, and to have maintained by favor a system destined 
to fall, of its own weight, when that favor should be withdrawn. 
A work published expressly to present, in a concise form, a 
view of the achievements of France in every branch of acquire- 
ment, thus speaks upon this subject : " Painting under the Em- 
pire is now appreciated at its proper standard. It is confessed 
that the compositions of the imperial era were forced and affected, 
too dramatic to be natural, and artificial in color. Still, the works 



THE SPOLIATION OF ITALY. 307 

of David, Girodet, Gros, Gerard and Guerin will always be re- 
marked for qualities which it would be idle to contest. A few 
years later, Prudhon and G^ricault restored, by solid and power- 
ful compositions, the legitimate influence of color." ^ 

Though this is the opinion held by the French critics and 
connaisseurs themselves, yet authors writing, as it would seem, 
for the express purpose of eulogizing the Emperor with indiscri- 
minate zeal, have frequently indulged in such panegyric as the 
following : " Napoleon and David ! Two men who owed to their 
genius only, their elevation, their popularity and their misfor- 
tunes ! Two men moved by the same principles, swayed by the 
same ambition of immortality ! Two men, in short, who, after 
having attained a degree of glory to which none others would 
have dared to aspire, fell by the same blow, and perished at 
nearly the same period, in a land of exile !"^ 

The most iremarkable exemplification of Napoleon's taste for 
the Fine Arts, was his spoliation of Italy, after his memorable 
campaign in that country. The Louvre had already been made 
a National Museum by the Convention, and the country possessed 
valuable artistic cabinets in the collections of Francis the First 
and Louis XIV. To these Napoleon, ordering a razzia among the 
galleries, churches and palaces of Italy, Spain and Holland, added 
the accumulated treasures of centuries and the idols of Christian 
and of Pagan Art. The Venus de' Medici was torn from the tri- 
bune at Florence and sent to adorn the Grand Salon at Paris ; 
the Florentines begged Canova to execute a Venus for her de- 
serted pedestal, that they might name it "La Consolatrice." The 
Apollo Belvidere — to mingle the classic with the commercial — 
was shipped from the Vatican to Marseilles ; the Laocoon was 
invoiced in the same consignment ; Correggio contributed his St. 
Jerome at Parma, though the Duke offered one million francs for 
its ransom ; Raphael contributed his Transfiguration, at Rome ; 
Domenichino his Communion ; Paul Veronese his Marriage of 

I Patria, ii. 2240. 2 Le Si&cle de Napol6on, Art. David. 



308 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Cana, at Venice ; Rubens Ms Descent from the Cross, at Antwerp ; 
Murillo his Assumption of the Virgin, at Madrid. The Bronze 
Horses, whose migrations from Corinth to Rome and thence to 
Constantinople, and thence again to Venice, had been for many- 
years suspended, were re-jostled into motion, and sent to grace 
the triumphal arch of the Tuileries at Paris. 

"What is this cloud of dust," says de Groncourt, "hanging 
over the post roads that centre at the Louvre ? It is the price- 
less booty of art trundled to Paris from conquered kingdoms. 
The national highways are worn into guUeys under the weight 
of pictures which were before the envy of the world, and the 
dower of nations. Paintings, woven of purple and sunlight, 
arrive by cartloads ; and BerthoUet's Assumption serves to stop 
a rent in a baggage van. Paris is to be the Pantheon of the hu- 
man demigods, and Italy is summoned to contribute Raphael and 
Michael Angelo, Titian and Veronese. The legacy of antique 
art to the Italian peninsula — immortal bronze and marble — shall 
come and inhabit Prance. Victory is abroad, and at every halt 
in the world's museum, she indites, on a drum-head, the way-bill 
of some chef-d'oeuvre. Milan shall lose the Cartoon of Raphael's 
School of Athens, its Giorgionis, its Leonardos : Parma its Cor- 
reggios : Plaisance its Caraccis : Mantua its Guercinos. Like 
widows despoiled, the cities of the peninsula shall weep over the 
lost pride of their galleries. Rome will no longer be at Rome ; 
ten chariots will not hold the fastidious choice made from her 
artistic wealth. The Louvre will be too small to contain Belgium, 
Holland, Italy and Greece. To think of the accidents, the losses, 
and the breakages, in this crash and pell-mell of art ! The Dutch 
and Flemish school huddled into a damp store-house on the 
ground floor ! Belgian masterpieces tossed under the staircase ! 
Canvas jammed against canvas by careless truckmen, and Madon- 
nas pierced by unwary ladders !" 

The arrival of the spoils of Italy at Paris, which took place 
on the 10th Thermidor of the year VI., was the most wonderful 



THE PROCESSION OF THE TEOPHIES. 309 

fine art spectacle that the world has ever seen. Twenty-nine 
huge chariots laden with marble and pictorial trophies inarched 
in procession over the Boulevards. There were the Venetian 
Horses, the Dying Gladiator, the Venus of the Capitol, the Disk 
Thrower, the Apollo Belvidere, the Venus de' Medici, the Lao- 
coon, the Marriage of Cana, the Transfiguration ; Mercury, Terp- 
sichore, Erato, Urania, Polyhymnia, Euterpe, Cupid, Psyche, 
Antinoils, Meleager, Ceres, Brutus, Cato, CUo, Adonis, CalHope, 
Melpomene, Trajan, Hercules and Thalia. In the train followed 
wagon loads of exotic plants, of petrifactions, of medals, manu- 
scripts, Swiss bears and African dromedaries. The cortege was 
headed by the students of the Polytechnic School, the directors 
of the Museum, the professors of the School of Pine Arts, and 
the commissaries of the army of Italy. The chariots were ar- 
ranged, at the close of the promenade, around the statue of 
Liberty, on the Champ de Mars ; and then Citizen Thoin, the 
orator of the day, thanked the goddess for thus avenging the 
humiliated arts, and breaking the chains which bound the re- 
nown of so many illustrious dead. 

The French have justified this rapacious pillage on very singu- 
lar grounds. Madame Junot, who was requested by the French 
Consul to do the honors of the Louvre to distinguished strangers, 
states that "these chefs-d'oeuvre had been conquered from barbar- 
ism and indifference, and in many instances from approaching 
ruin." The catalogue of the Louvre, published by the Minister of 
the Interior, says : " We are sorry that our space will not permit 
us to enlarge on the efforts and success of those honorable adminis- 
trators, who, by their skill and care, saved from certain ruin the 
paintings whose preservation Italy had so much neglected." 

The French were very anxious, upon the fall of Napoleon, 
that an arrangement be made by which the works of art collected 
at the Louvre and in the capital might be suffered to remain. 
"Wellington wrote to Lord Castlereagh a letter upon the subject, 
in which occurs the following passage : " The allies being now in 



310 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

legal possession of the pictures and statues of the museum, they 
can not fail to restore them to those from whom they had been 
violently taken, contrary to the usages of regular warfare, and 
during the fearful period of the French Revolution and the 

tyranny of Bonaparte The desire of the French to retain 

these works of art is nothing more than a sentiment of national 
pride. They wish to retain them, not because Paris is the most 
proper spot for their assemblage, but because they were acquired 
by conquest, of which they form the trophies. The same senti- 
ment naturally guides the nations despoiled, now that victory is 
upon their side, in their desire that these works be restored to 
them, the legitimate proprietors. The allied sovereigns are bound 
to give favorable attention to this desire. My opinion, then, is, 
that it would be unjust in the sovereigns to yield to the requests 
of the Parisians. The sacrifice they would make would be impo- 
litic, for they would lose the occasion of administering to the 
French a grand moral lesson." 

Kapoleon's gallery of plundered art was therefore broken up 
in 1815, and its treasures were restored to their respective states. 
The Place du Carrousel, which covers the space in front of the 
museum, was occupied by English and Prussian soldiers during 
the boxing and removal of the precious absentees. Very few were 
allowed to remain. Austria, which at the Congress of Yienna 
was confirmed in the possession of Lombardo-Venetia, acknow- 
ledged that, in view of the dangers and diifi.culties of its transport 
back to Venice, the Marriage of Cana, by Paul Veronese, was 
safer where it was, and consented to leave it ; but exacted, in 
exchange for it, a picture by Lebruu, representing Jesus, Judas 
and Mary Magdalen at the house of Simon the Pharisee. Canova, 
who had been sent to Paris by the Roman government to attend 
to its interests in the surrender of the works of art, consented to 
the retention of the colossal statue of the Tiber, and the magnifi- 
cent Pallas of Velletri, as voluntary gifts from Rome. The Flor- 
entine commissaries agreed to a compromise, by which several 



THE DISPERSION OF THE GALLERY. 311 

works by Grhiiiandaio were suffered to continue in Paris. The 
robberies committed by Soult, in Spain, were principally on his 
own account, and upon his death, in 1852, his Spanish gaUery 
was sold at auction for the benefit of his estate. Murillo's As- 
sumption was bought by the government for the Louvre, for the 
sum of about 600,000 fi'ancs. 

The dispersion of Napoleon's collection was a sore mortifica- 
tion to the Parisians. " A melancholy humiliation," says Alison, 
" now awaited the nation. The justice of the demand could not 
be contested ; it was only wresting the prey from the robber. 

Nothing wounded the people so much as this breaking up 

of the trophies of the war. It told them, in language not to be 
mistaken, that conquest had now reached their doors ; the iron en- 
tered into the soul of the nation. They had come to regard these 
matchless productions, not as the patrimony of the human race, 
but their own peculiar and inalienable property, and had thus 
prej)ared themselves for the mortification which now ensued, u^aon 
the restoration of these precious remains to their rightful owners." 

"With whatever enthusiasm," says Lacretelle, "this new spe- 
cies of tribute may have been received in France, it is impossible 
not to discern in it a triple outrage upon the rights of nations, upon 
a true taste for the arts, and upon a wise and moderate policy. 
Was it right to revive, in the processes of war, a violence of which 
the ancient Romans alone had set the example ? The evils of 
war are transitory, and often a few years of peace are sufficient 
to obliterate its traces. But the pride of a nation is permanently 
wounded, when its titles to glory are despoiled by force. A des- 
olate pedestal, a vacant niche, a mutilated fresco, are pointed out 
by the aggrieved nation with sighs to the traveller, with indigna- 
tion to the subject of the despoiling monarch. From hence comes 
that continuance of national dislikes which even during peace may 
lead to a renewal of hostilities. Besides, it is to renounce all no- 
ble rivalry in the arts, thus to establish their supremacy by theft. 
And the constantly returning idea of the ravages of war diverts 



312 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

tlie attention and disturbs the enjoyment of the amateur in his 
contemplations of a gallery of art 

"The possession of masterpieces obtained by violence is uncer- 
tain, as we have seen. Transported as they were from one coun- 
try to another, what danger did they not run from mihtary pre- 
cipitation and neglect ! And again, if this sort of rapine were to 
be estabhshed as a consequence of war and conquest, might it not 
one day happen that a nation should destroy, rather than submit to 
the humihation of restoring, the chefs-d'oeuvre it had obtained?"^ 

The visitor at the Louvre to-day will thus find the works of 
art which Napoleon purchased and the school which he fostered, 
without followers, without traditions, and without influence ; and 
he will discover few remains of those which he obtained by plun- 
der. Its walls are certainly adorned with many specimens of the 
Itahan, Spanish, and Flemish schools ; but these were obtained 
by other sovereigns and at other periods, and generally by gentler 
processes and means more commendable than pillage and confis- 
cation. 

The French sculptors of the imperial era were by no means 
equal to then' comrades of the palette and brush. Napoleon felt 
their inferiority, and in 1802 summoned Canova from Italy, that he 
might model his statue of colossal size. He caused his traveUiug 
expenses to be paid, and a carriage to be given to him. The 
offer made the artist for the statue was 120,000 francs. After 
having moulded the model in clay, Canova retm-ued to Rome to 
execute the statue in marble. One of the arms being outstretched, 
a large block of stone remained to be cut away from beneath it. 
"From under the arm of Mars," said Canova, "I wiU get the ma- 
terial for ray Venus." The Venus ordered by the Florentines to 
replace the Venus de' Medici, and now to be seen at the Pitti 
Palace at Florence, was in fact thus chiselled in the fragment of 
marble taken from under Napoleon's arm. 

This statue of the Emperor is not by any means the best of 



NAPOLEON AND CANOVA. 313 

Cauova's works. It did not satisfy the Emperor, and was in con- 
sequence concealed in a closed room of the Louvre. It passed into 
the hands of the Duke of WeUington in 1815, who paid 80,000 
francs for it. This sum was devoted by Louis XVIII. to the re- 
pairs of the Louvre. The year after, David d'Angers, a French 
sculptor, walking in the streets of London, noticed a crowd of per- 
sons standing before a palace door. . He looked in and saw, in the 
entry and at the foot of a staircase, Canova's colossal Napoleon. 
One of the Duke's lackeys had flung his livery over its shoulders. 
David wrote to Paris that the statue had become a "hat-tree." 

Canova was summoned to Paris a second time, in 1810, for 
the purpose of executing the statue of Marie Louise. The sculp- 
tor has himself detailed the circumstances of his presentation to 
the Emperor, at Fontainebleau : 

" Tou have grown somewhat thinner, M. Canova," said Na- 
poleon. Canova replied that it was the consequence of incessant 
application ; and then thanked his Majesty for having called him 
to France for the purpose of employing him professionally. He 
did not conceal, however, that it was impossible for him to fix his 
residence permanently out of Rome. 

"Paris," returned Napoleon, "is the capital of the world; 
you must remain here ; we shall make much of you." "Sire, 
you may command me, but if it please your majesty that my life 
be devoted to your service, permit me to return to Rome, after 
having completed the object of my visit here." " But you wiU 
be in your element, here in Paris ; we have all the masterpieces 
of art, the Farnese Hercules alone excepted ; and we shall soon 
have that too." " May it please your Majesty, pray leave Italy, 
at least, something. These monuments of antiquity are insepa- 
rably connected with many others, which it would be impossible 
to remove either from Rome or Naples." " Italy can indemnify 
herself by excavations ; I shall order some to be made at Rome. 
Pray, has the Pope been at much expense for excavations ?" 

Napoleon subsequently expressed regret that his statue had 
40 



314 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

not been in modern dress. " Omnipotence itself," said the sculp- 
tor, " would have failed, had it attempted to represent your 
Majesty as I now see you, with small clothes and boots. In sta- 
tuary, as in all other arts, we have our sublime style : the sculp- 
tor's sublimity is nudity, and a kind of drapery peculiar to the 
art." " Then why is my equestrian statue, upon which you are 
engaged at Rome, to be draped?" "Because in this case, the 
figure must be in the heroic costume ; it would not be correct to 
represent a sovereign on horseback, at the head of his army, in 
the nude state." -^ 

Canova worked for Napoleon with evident distaste. The Em- 
peror was an impatient sitter, and was always nervously anxious 
to bring the hour of posturing to a close. Canova often com- 
plained of the little interest he seemed to take in the details and 
niceties of the art. He considered him, too, the despoiler and 
oppressor of his country. He was still engaged upon the bronze 
equestrian statue, in 1814. He had foreseen the impending dis- 
aster, and had taken the precaution to mould the horse sepa- 
rately. Upon the saddle intended for Napoleon now rests, at 
Naples, the form of Charles III. of Naples, the father of Ferdi- 
nand, at that time the reigning sovereign. 

The French sculptors of the period may be dismissed in very 
few words. Houdon, whose Washington has furnished the type 
for innumerable copies, had nearly finished his career upon Bona- 
parte's accession to power. He executed the busts, however, of 
Napoleon and Josephine. He was bald and venerable in 1800, 
and Gerard introduced his portrait into his " Entrance of Henry 
IV.," as the face of one of the patriarchs commissioned to present 
the monarch with the keys of the city. Chaudet, whose statue 
of Napoleon obtained the prize for sculpture, in 1810, might have 
reached the highest rank in his profession, had it not been for an 
incurable disease and an early death. Pajou and Moitte were 
anterior to Napoleon, being respectively sixty and seventy years 

1 Entretiens de Canova avec Napol6on. 



MUSIC UNDER THE EMPIRE. 315 

old at his coronation, while David d'Angers and Pradier did not 
acquire distinction till after his fall. 

The musicians and composers of the Empire were men of 
high attainments ; their names are still familiar. The majority 
of them, however, were Italians : Cherubini, Spontini, Paer, Pai- 
siello. The first French composer was Etienne Mehul, a native 
of Givet, on the northern coast. He was peculiarly Napoleon's 
contemporary, for he was born but five years before him, and 
died two years after his exile. 

During the period of M^hul's studies, the musical world was 
divided into two camps — the admirers of Piccini, and the partisans 
of Grluck, called respectively Piccinistes and Gluckistes. Mehul 
strove to combine the merits and avoid the defects of both mas- 
ters. During the Revolution and the Consulate, he produced 
Euphrosine, Stratonice, I'lrato, and Joseph en Egypte. These 
works placed him at once in the highest rank, and caused the for- 
mation of a third party of dilettanti — the Mehulistes. The duo of 
Euphrosine was pronounced quite equal to any piece of concerted 
music in existence. 

Paisiello, the idol of Italy, was, during the Consulate, com- 
poser of sacred music to Bonaparte. The position, however, be- 
came soon vacant, upon his return to his native country. It was 
generally believed that Mehul would be appointed to the place, 
and an article in the Journal de Paris set forth this choice as the 
only one that Napoleon could consistently make. The Emperor, 
who would listen to no dictation, immediately sent word to Le- 
sueur that he made him his maltre de chapelle. As a compensa- 
tion for this marked and intentional slight, M^hul received an 
annual pension of 2,000 francs, and was admitted to the hospi- 
talities of Malmaison. Sometime after, he was summoned to the 
imperial box at the Op^ra Comique, where Napoleon told him 
that he had lately visited the fortifications of the north of France, 
and at Givet had been accosted by an old man, who desired to 
know how his son, Etienne M^hul, was progressing at the capital. 



316 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Napoleon replied that Mehul was a great musician and an honest 
man, and that on his return to Paris he would teU him of his 
interview with his aged father, which he now did in presence of 
many gentlemen of the court. 

Mehul was the first to introduce wind instruments into the 
orchestra ; they had only been used previously in detached cho- 
ruses. His strict probity, liberality and disinterestedness reduced 
him on several occasions to the verge of starvation ; and a letter 
written by him is still in existence in which he implores EUeviou, 
the tenor, to hasten the production of one of his operas, "if he 
does not wish to see the author of Stratonice and of Ariodant 
perish of hunger." He died in 1817, of a pulmonary complaint, 
and was buried at Pfere la Chaise. One hundred and forty musi- 
cians executed a requiem over his grave. 

Lesueur, the composer of La Caverne, T616maque, Les Bardes, 
and of numerous oratorios, masses and other church music, was 
the favorite and protege of Napoleon. He gave him a jeweled 
snuff-box bearing the inscription, " L'Bmpereur des Francais 
a I'auteur des Bardes," and he held his first child upon the 
baptismal font — a special and exceptional favor. Mehul and 
Lesueur were the types of the musical taste of the Empire : the 
characteristics of their style were energy rather than grace, con- 
centration rather than vivacity, and a scientific combination of 
harmonies rather than an agreeable flow of melody. This school 
of composition was superseded towards the close of the Empire 
by that introduced by Boieldieu, who succeeded completely in win- 
ning over the popular taste to a mode of composition which has 
since been perpetuated under the auspices of Auber, forming a 
school eminently and exclusively French — ^that of the opera-com- 
ique, or ballad opera. Boieldieu produced " Le Calife de Bagdad," 
in 1799 ; "Jean de Paris," "Ma Tante Aurore," and " Les Voi- 
tures Yersees," during the Consulate and Empire. ' His most 
esteemed and celebrated work, "La Dame Blanche," was not writ- 
ten till after the faU of Napoleon. His manner was light, facile, 



NAPOLEON'S PATRONAGE OF THE ARTS. 317 

elegant, coquettish even, without practised or studied effects. 
He is not considered, historically, as belonging to Napoleon's 
time. He was the opponent of a school which, chronologically 
and from its characteristic features, is regarded as that of the 
Empire, the school of M6hul and Lesueur — and if we include the 
foreign composers resident in France, that of Cherubini, Paer, 
and Spontini. 

Many hundreds of operas were composed and produced in 
France during Napoleon's reign. So complete has been the change 
in musical taste, that hardly ten of these works have retained pos- 
session of the French lyric stage. " La Yestale " of Spontini has 
been once revived, in obedience to the commands of an imperious 
prima donna ; " Le Maitre de Chapelle " of Paer maintains an un- 
certain place in the current repertory of the Opera Comique ; 
"Joseph" and "Le Jeune Henri" of Mehul are from time to time 
restored to the admiration of the lingering veterans of the Em- 
pire. Of Lesueur nothing remains but his motets, oratorios, and 
cantatas. Cherubini survives in memory and tradition only ; the 
once famous and admired Lodoi'ska is silent and forgotten. 

No sovereign has ever bestowed a more liberal patronage 
upon the fine arts than Napoleon. And yet the fact is notorious 
that the painters, sculptors, and musicians of the Empire, though 
they have left great names and famous works, are rarely cited as 
authority, and are seldom consulted as models. The walls of the 
Louvre occupied by the masterpieces of imperial art, though al- 
ways viewed with interest and often with admiration, are as com- 
pletely useless for all purposes of instruction to youthful artists 
as are the frescoes of Pompeii ; and the portfolios of the Con- 
servatory and of the Academy of Music, laden with the treasures 
of imperial composers, are rarely if ever opened either to guide 
the student or to gratify the dilettante. Napoleon was in fact 
destitute of taste and real appreciation of the arts, and hence his 
encouragement was merely that of money, without the inspiring 
influence of enlightened and sympathetic genius. 



CHAPTER XIVI. 

Astrology during the Empire — M'Ue Lenormand — Her first Prophecy — Her Education and Choice 
of Studies — Predictions made to Mirabeau, M'lle Montansier, Bernadotte, Murat, Robespierre, 
St. Just — The Horoscope of Josephine — Napoleon — M'lle Lenormand's Cabinet of Consultation 
— ^Her Prediction to Madame de Stael — Her Arrest, Interrogatory and Release — Predictions 
to Horace Vernet, Potier, Alexander and Von Malchus^Her Adventures in Brussels — Her 
Works— Her Death and Character — Her Faith in her own Powers — The Processes to which 
she had Recourse — Hermann the Soothsayer — An Intrigue at the Tuileries. 

THE arts of astrology and divination occupied a large share 
of public attention during the Consulate and the Empire. 
M'Ue Marie-Anne Lenormand, the most distinguished sibyl of 
modern times, the counsellor of Robespierre, Napoleon, and the 
Czar Alexander, the confidante and biographer of Josephine, and 
who possessed the ability to subject the most brilliant and en- 
lightened court of Europe to the authority of her shuffles of cards 
and perusals of palms, merits more than a passing notice. The 
epoch in which she lived was a period of incredulity upon religi- 
ous subjects, and consequently one likely to invest a skiUful pro- 
fessor of the black art with marked consideration. " Evocations 
and necromancy," says Chateaubriand, " are nothing more than 
the instinct of religion, and form one of the most striking proofs 
of the necessity of worship. A nation produces somnambulists 
when its prophets depart, and resorts to witchcraft when it aban- 
dons the rites of religion ; the dens of the sorcerers are opened 
when the temples of the Lord are closed." 

M'lle Lenormand, who was born at Aleu^on, in 1772, of a 
respectable family, was, as she herself declares, a "waking som- 
nambulist" at the age of seven years. She was placed in the 



M'LLE LENORMAND. 319 

Royal Abbey of Benedictines, and speedily became the oracle of 
the convent. The superior having been dismissed, and the king 
hesitating for many months in the appointment of a successor, she 
predicted that a lady by the name of Livardrie would finally be 
selected by his majesty. This was soon realized, and at the in- 
stallation the young priestess was made to fill an important post, 
and was even presented as " one supernaturally inspired," to the 
notice of Bishop Grimaldi. 

She read little else than books treating of the forbidden art, 
and even at this early age spent much time in the compilation of 
a sort of history of divination from the earliest period to her own 
day. She vei'sed herself thoroughly in the annals of Grreek and 
Roman oracles ; in those of the Gallic Druids, of the prophets of 
Baal, of the Hebrew philosophers, and of the miracle-workers of 
antiquity. She studied the interpretation of dreams and the doc- 
trines of second sight, and at the age of twelve was a complete 
adept in the practice of judicial astrology, in the drawing of hor- 
oscopes, and in the combination of cabalistic figures. She ex- 
amined the mysteries of the white of eggs and the grounds of 
cofiee, but only to reject them. She inquired what degree of 
confidence was to be placed in the assertions of Plato, Aristotle 
and Plutarch, that Socrates foretold the principal events of his 
own life, and in that of Tacitus, that Tiberius and Marcus Aure- 
lius expounded dreams. She investigated the cures effected in 
the middle ages by amulets and the relics of saints, and the power 
of healing the king's evil, said to have been possessed by the kings 
of France since the time of Clovis. 

But her principal study was that of chiromancy, or the art of 
reading the hnes and signs of the human hand. She declared that 
both Job and Moses had used language which implies belief in 
the revelations of the hand ; and claimed Solomon as an entire 
believer, upon the strength of the passage, " Length of days is in 
her right hand, and in her left riches and honor." ^ 



320 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

She asserted that Ptolemy, Plato, Galen, and in modern times, 
Lavater, regarded chiromancy as an exact science, and even treated 
of it in their writings at length. She resolved to adopt divina- 
tion and hermetic science as a profession. She adopted, as its 
regular and avowed bases, somnambulism, magnetism, astrology, 
chiromancy, and physiognomy. The white of eggs, though, ac- 
cording to Suetonius, of Koman origin ; coflfee grounds, though 
not, as she said, without scientific and chemical authority ; the 
divining rod, though a time-honored tradition, dating from Circe 
and Medea ; and numerous other practices which she considered 
degrading and superstitious, were severally rejected. She also 
rejected cartomancy, or the art of reading cards. It is true that 
she used cards, but this was merely cabaUstically, for the sake 
of the figures upon them, and to aid her in numerical processes. 
She made her first important prediction at the age of seventeen, 
at the moment when Louis XVI. convoked the States-General. 
She foretold the downfall of that monarchy which numbered eight 
centuries of existence, the dispersion of the clergy, and the sup- 
pression of the convents. 

Upon the realization of this prediction, she established her- 
self in Paris, where her reputation had already preceded her.* 
Her cabinet of consultation was overrun with applicants of aU 
ages and ranks, anxious to obtain a glance at the future which 
was to succeed this terrible period of anarchy. She foretold her 
fate to the unfortunate Princess de Lamballe, and received a let- 
ter from Mirabeau, written in the dungeon of Yincennes, and im- 
ploring her to tell him when his captivity would cease. To 
General Hoche she predicted a short but glorious military career, 
and to Lefebvre, a marshal's baton : both these predictions were 
realized. To M'lle Montansier, who expected to be guillotined 
the nest day, she wrote, "'You will live to a good old age." 
This prediction threw the prisoner into such a state of delirious 

* The portrait of M'lle Lenormand, upon the opposite page, is talien from an engraving at the Bibliotheq^ue 
Imp6riale, in Paris, believed to be the only authentic likeness of her in existence. 




Wf JL.3BlfOllMEJ.MB 



M'LLE LENORMAND AND JOSEPHINE. 321 

joy, that her execution was postponed ; the fall of Robespierre 
saved her, and she lived to number her one hundredth year. To 
Bernadotte she announced that he would become King of Sweden. 
He promised to settle upon her ten thousand francs a year, if 
her prediction were fulfilled. He forgot, or at least never exe- 
cuted, his engagement, when, in the course of events, he became 
Charles XIY. She was especially consulted by the most ad- 
vanced partisans of the Revolution, and on one occasion gave 
audience to Marat, Robespierre, and St. Just. To the first, she 
announced a speedy death, and magnificent honors at his funeral ; 
to the two last, an ignominious fate at the hands of an indignant 
people. It is impossible not to admire the fearlessness with 
which she announced to her ferocious auditors that " they would 
be devoured by their own work, and become victims of the 
bloody drama which they were themselves enacting." 

M'lle Lenormand espoused the cause of the Royalists, and 
made several attempts to save Marie Antoinette, to whom she 
gained admittance in her dungeon. The administrator of the 
Temple was dismissed for complicity in this act, and M'lle Lenor- 
mand was arrested and confined at the Petite Force. She here 
predicted that Robespieire would speedily perish by the guillo- 
tine ; and this was reahzed while she was still in durance. 

A more extraordinary prediction than this was made by her 
during the same captivity. It is true that we have little other 
guarantee for- its authenticity than her own assertion, but the in- 
timacy between her and Josephine, which is historical, can be 
explained in no other manner than by assuming its accuracy. 
Josephine, then Madame de Beauharnais, was at this period con- 
fined at the prison of the Carmes ; she learned from the new- 
comers who were successively brought to share her captivity, of 
the singular predictions of the prisoner of the Force. She and 
several other ladies determined upon sending to the sibyl the 
data necessary for drawing their horoscopes, and to request her 
to enhghten them upon the epoch of their restoration to liberty. 

41 



322 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Each of them collected the details forming what is called a 
" th^me de naissance " — a document giving the applicant's age; 
the month and the day of the month of her birth ; the time, 
whether day or night ; the initials of her baptismal names ; her 
favorite color, flower and domestic animal. All these papers 
were secretly conveyed from the Carmes to the Force, and placed 
in Mile Lenormand's hands. The latter replied to each, being 
of course ignorant of the names and positions of the applicants. 
She announced to Josephine that she would soon suiFer the 
greatest of calamities, but that she would survive her affliction, 
and marry a man destined to attain the loftiest dignities and to 
astonish the world. The horoscope concluded by hinting at the 
possibility of a divorce. Josephine was naturally surprised at 
this prediction, and the more so as it coincided with that of the 
famous negress of Martinique, Buph^mie David, who had, many 
years previously, promised her the empire of the Gauls. Soon 
after her release from prison, Josephine inquired the address of 
M'Ue Lenormand, who was also restored to liberty. She found 
her in the Rue de Tournon, No. 1153, since No. 5, and instituted 
further inquiries into the fate that awaited her. It does not 
appear that she learned anything beyond the general features of 
the prediction already made. 

Soon after, Napoleon Bonaparte, then an officer of artillery, 
was taken to the cabinet of M'Ue Lenormand, by an old general 
of the name of Lasalle. He submitted his hand to the sibyl, and 
asked for the interpretation of its Unes. She declared that the 
applicant would gain battles, marry a widow, conquer kingdoms, 
distribute thrones, and astonish the world ; he would finally die 
in exile. She gives, in one of her works, a full description of 
Napoleon's hand, its signs, raxetes and restraintes, and declares 
it to have been a chef-d'oeuvre of chiromancy. Napoleon and 
Josephine were married in 1796, and thus were three points of 
the horoscope of the latter fuhiUed : she had suffered calamity in 
the death of her husband, she had survived her grief, and had 



THE CABINET OF M'LLE LENORMAND. 323 

united her fate with a soldier — and one who, in the belief of all 
who knew him, was capable of rising to the promised elevation. 
M'lle Lenormand became, therefore, the prot6gle, and was, in a 
certain sense, the object of the affectionate consideration, of Jo- 
sephine. Her cabinet was now crowded with the elite of Parisian 
society — priests, nobles, magistrates and soldiers. The visitor to 
the dwelling of the pythoness was shown into a room in which 
books, prints, paintings, stuffed animals, musical and other in- 
struments, bottles with lizards and snakes in spirits, wax fruits, 
artificial flowers, and a medley of nameless articles, covered the 
walls, the table and the floor, leaving the eye scarcely an unoc- 
cupied spot to rest upon. 

The furniture of the cabinet of consultation was in maple ; the 
walls were adorned with portraits of the Bourbons, with a paint- 
ing by Greuze of great value, and with her own portrait by Isa- 
bey. Her cards, which were of large size and covered with colored 
hieroglyphics, were painted by Carle Vernet. 

Madame de Stael also visited her about this period, though 
with considerable reluctance. The sibyl made her the following 
speech : ' ' You are anxious about some event which will proba- 
bly take place to-morrow, but from which you will derive very 
little satisfaction." Pubhc rumor completed the story as follows : 
Madame de Stael met Bonaparte, the next day, at an evening 
party. Bonaparte said to her, "Have you seen the Thieving 
Magpie yet, madame — the play which is now so much the rage ?" 
As she hesitated to answer a question so unexpected, he added, 
"They say we are soon to have the Seditious Magpie, too." 
Poor Madame de Stael, the story went on to say, withdrew in 
deep confusion, and remembered the prediction of Mile Lenor- 
mand. 

On the 2d of May, 1801, the sorceress was summoned to 
Malmaison. She supposed, on obeying the invitation, that it 
came from one of the ladies attached to the person of Madame 
Bonaparte. She was introduced into the presence of Josephine, 



324 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

herself, however, who asked her at once whether she was destined 
to reside much longer at Malmaison, and what was to be her 
future life. M'Ue Lenormand took her left hand — of which, in 
her memoirs, she gives a diagram — and, according to her own 
version of the interview, replied as follows : "You cherish pro- 
jects, madame, for the advancement of your husband. Take 
care ! If he should ever grasp the sceptre of the world, he would 
abandon you, for he is ambitious. Nevertheless, you are destined 
to enact the first part in France, and the day is not far off." 

Josephine then asked if her own fate was to be indissolubly 
connected with that of the First Consul, and if the new govern- 
ment was to experience the inconstancy of fortune. M'lle Lenor- 
mand replied : " You will sit upon the throne of the kings ; the 
force of 5^our genius promises you a grand and inconceivable des- 
tiny, but the day may come when your lord will forget his solemn 
promises, for, unhappily, his sincerity will not always equal his 
greatness." 

Some years later, when Josephine had become Empress of 
the French, she consulted her friend the pythoness upon Napo- 
leon's designs against Rome. "He means to become master of 
it," was the reply : " but let him beware of any interference in 
the spiritual government of the Church, for his efforts would be 
frustrated." Josephine communicated this to Napoleon on his 
return from the Congress of Erfurth. " Oh, ho !" said he, " you 
seek to penetrate my designs, do you ; and for this purpose you 
consult oracles ! Learn, ladies, that I do not like to be divined, 
so, to-morrow I will have your demoiselle Lenormand arrested ; 
and never speak to me of her again." Josephine sent one of her 
attendants, M'lle Aubert, at once to Paris, to warn M'lle Lenor- 
mand of her impending arrest, and to advise her to conceal her- 
self till the fit was over. " Tell your mistress," rephed the sibyl, 
"that I thank her for her kindness, but that I have nothing to 
fear from the Emperor." The next morning Josephine repeated 
this rather presumptuous rejoinder to Napoleon, who laughed 



THE DIVORCE PREDICTED. 325 

and said, " Weil, I believe she is right; where the deuce does 
she get all she says ? I don't mind her meddling with your 
affairs ; but tell her to let mine alone, for the slightest interfe- 
rence would cost her her liberty." 

On one occasion M'Ue Lenormand was summoned by Pouche 
to his cabinet. He reproached her for the aid and comfort she 
had given to the Bourbons by her late predictions. She paid no 
attention to his complaints, being engaged in shuffling a pack of 
cards, and muttering from time to time, " The knave of clubs !" 
He then said that he intended to send her to prison, where she 
would probably remain a long time. " How do you know that?" 
she retm-ned. "See, here is the knave of clubs again, and he 
will set me free." " Oh, ho ! the knave of clubs will set you free, 
will he ? And who is the knave of clubs ?" " The Duke de Ro- 
vigo, your successor in office." 

About this period, Talleyrand consulted her personally and 
by letter. One of these epistles, still in existence, commences 
thus : "Illustrious sibyl, will you never predict me aught but 
misfortunes ?" 

During the period preceding the divorce of Josephine, M'Ue 
Lenormand made numerous political predictions, which again 
drew upon her the anger of Napoleon, and again called for the 
intervention of the Empress. At last, however, she placed her- 
self beyond the reach of Josephine's protection, by announcing 
to her on the 28th of November, 1809, during the interpretation 
of a dream of serpents, that on the 16th of December following, 
" an infamous deed would be accomplished." For this she was 
arrested, and the furniture of her cabinet seized. The police 
astonished and amused the city by putting the seals upon four 
volumes of Lavater and nine tables of logarithms. She was con- 
veyed to the Prefecture, where, in a solitary cell, she occupied 
her leisure by the evocation of spirits. In the interrogatory 
which followed, she was skillful enough to invert the order of 
characters, and to lead the judge to a discussion upon hermetic 



326 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

science, in the course of which he acknowledged "his intimate 
conviction of the existence of supernatural and invisible beings." 
Her interrogatory was brought to a close by a prediction regarded 
by the French as the most remarkable of modern times. Being 
urged to explain a vague observation she had made, she replied, 
" That is a problem which will be resolved on the 31st of March, 
1814" — the date of the occupation of Paris by the allies. There 
is an apparent flaw in the proof of the authenticity of this predic- 
tion. It was not made public till after the abdication of Napo- 
leon, and therefore seems made to suit the occurrence ; l)ut as 
M'lle Lenormand states the prediction to have been uttered to 
M. Dubois, prefect of police, and to the examining judge, neither 
of whom denied it, and as no refutation of the assertion was ever 
drawn from the archives of the Prefecture, where the report of 
her interrogatory was deposited, it is fair to regard the prediction 
as a genuine one. She was set at liberty after twelve days of soli- 
tary confinement, and seven days after the accomplishment of 
Josephine's divorce. She wrote a letter of adieu to M. Dubois, 
concluding with these lines : 

" De vous aimer de loin, je m'impose la loi, 
Mais, de grace, Monsieur, ne pensez plus a raoi." 

This interference of the police produced a very natural result. 
She became the object of increased interest and curiosity, and 
her den was a more fashionable resort than ever. A learned 
abb6, in a work entitled " Error and Prejudice," bore witness to 
the intelligence of the class that now thronged her ante-chamber. 

She predicted to Horace Yernet, a child at the time, that in 
about thirty years from that period he would stand in such high 
consideration as an artist, that the king then upon the throne 
would send him to Africa to paint the storming of a fortress there 
by the French army. Louis Philippe fulfilled this prophecy in 
1839. 

In 1810, the famous comic actor Potier met M'lle Lenormand, 



M'LLE LENORMAND AND VON MALCHUS. 327 

though with no intention of employing her services. The conver- 
sation turned on lotteries. She told Potier that two and even 
three prizes were assigned by destiny to every man ; and that if 
she could collect about her the individuals to whom fortune was 
favorably disposed, all the lotteries in Europe would not be able 
to pay the immense winnings she could enable them to claim. 
Potier asked what were his fortunate numbers. M'Ue Lenor- 
mand examined his left hand, and said: "Mark the numbers 9, 
11, 37, and 85 ; stake on these in sixteen years from now, at 
Lyons, and you will win a quatern." In 1826, Potier chose 
these four numbers, with a fifth, 27, the number of his birth-day. 
He won 250,000 francs, and so well did he invest it, that he died 
worth a million and a half. 

The influence of M'Ue Lenormand augmented so rapidly, that 
an edict for her exile was signed, though afterwards revoked. In 
1811, the plan was formed of attaching her to the secret police, 
in the capacity of a detective ; and on the 1st of May she was 
summoned to the Prefecture, when the proposition was made to 
her. She rejected the overtures of M. Pasquier with dignity and 
firmness, on the ground of their immorality. 

On the invasion and occupation of France by the allies, the 
sibyl's abode was crowded by foreigners of all nations and condi- 
tions ; among them was the Czar of Russia, Alexander. Presi- 
dent Yon Malchus, a Westphalian statesman of ability and credit, 
who had been Minister of Finance, of War, and of the Interior, 
under Jerome Bonaparte, was induced, in March, 1814, to visit 
her. He wrote and published an account of the interview. "Of 
my past history," he says, " she told me, to my infinite astonish- 
ment, much that I had myself forgotten, and which was certainly 
known to no one in Pai-is. She placed before me the various 
sections of my past life in so definite and distinct a manner, that 
I began to feel a kind of horror creeping over me, as if I had been 
in the presence of a spirit." She told the President that in eight 
days he would receive a letter from his wife ; he would hear four 



328 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

times from Germany in the coming week ; predictions that the 
event justified. She said that before the 23d of November of the 
same year an unacceptable decision would be made concerning 
him. On the 21st of that month the Hanoverian minister made 
known to him that his claim to the estate of Marienrode was re- 
jected. Upon the conclusion of the interview, Malchus requested 
her to commit to writing what she had orally communicated to 
him, for which additional labor he would pay an additional sum. 
She required three weeks in which to perform the work ; in a 
month she handed him the papers; i^ritten out in full. There 
was no perceptible variation from the previous spoken predic- 
tions. This Malchus considered good and sufficient proof that she 
drew her deductions from positive and fixed data. As it was im- 
possible she could remember, in the multiplicity of her avocations, 
any one individual statement for the space of a month, it seemed 
clear that she had reconstructed the horoscope, and that, proceed- 
ing from the same premises, she had natiu^ally arrived at the same 
result. 

M'lle Lenormand now became an authoress, and published 
numerous works treating of divination, the most interesting of 
which is " Les Souvenirs Proph^tiques d'une Sibylle." She was 
arrested in Brussels in 1821, and tried by the tribunal of Lou- 
vain, for having boasted of enjoying the society of the genius 
Ariel, of possessing a magic eye-glass and a precious talisman, 
and for having exercised her art in the dominions of his Hollando- 
Belgic majesty. She was condemned to a year's imprisonment. 
This sentence was quashed by the high court of Brussels, and the 
pythoness was carried in triumph through the streets by a de- 
lighted and infatuated mob. 

In 1820, she published two volumes of memoirs of the Empress 
Josephine. This work was dedicated to the Czar Alexander, and 
the authoress received from that sovereign a diamond ring, in 
acknowledgment. It contains a large quantity of interesting, 
though unauthenticated, anecdotes of Napoleon and Josephine. 



CHARACTER OF M'LLE LENOKMAND. 329 

It gives an engraved fac simile of the letter by which the Empress, 
in November, 1809, summoned M'Ue Lenormand to her presence, 
and in reply to which the latter predicted the impending divorce. 
During the reign of Charles X., she declared that the Duke of 
Orleans would come to the throne, and saw the prediction re- 
alized, in 1830, by the accession of Louis Philippe. She now 
retired from business, and soon after returned to Alen9on, where 
she built a small house which she called the Cottage of Socrates. 
She refused to exercise her vocation there, saying that she drew 
horoscopes only at Paris. Bne owned a large mansion at Paris, 
and a chateau at Poissy. She had collected a gallery of good pic- 
tures, and possessed autographs and confidential letters from the 
principal personages in Europe. Her property was estimated at 
half a million of francs. 

M'lle Lenormand died in 1843, at the age of seventy-one years, 
though several of her works contain the enunciation of her be- 
lief that she should attain the age of one hundred and twenty-four 
years. She was buried at P^re la Chaise. She had never been 
married, and was never known to desire marriage or to think of 
it. She never had an attachment, and her life furnished no ground 
for scandal. 

M'lle Lenormand can hardly be considered a vulgar charlatan. 
She is saved from this accusation by the extent of her erudition, 
which, in her branch of study, has probably never been surpassed ; 
by her courage and sincerity ; by her preservation of an illustrious 
friendship ; by the character of the society which frequented her 
cabinet ; and by her merits as a writer and her constancy as a 
partisan. Her history and achievements are as remarkable in the 
nineteenth century as those of Nostradamus in the time of Charles 
IX., or those of the Cumsean sibyl during the supremacy of Kome. 

It would appear that M'Ue Lenormand had faith in her own 
powers, for she was known to consult her sources of information, 
whatever they were, in reference to the affairs of herself and her 
family. On one occasion, she felt anxious concerning the fate of 

42 



330 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

her brother, who was absent with the French army. After pass- 
ing the night in various cabahstic processes, she gave way to a 
paroxysm of tears, and ordered a suit of mourning garments. 
Letters soon announced the young man's death. She possessed 
unbounded confidence in her means of discovering character. On 
the approach of the allies, she desired to place her money and 
valuables in the hands of some trustworthy person. None such 
being at hand, she chose the first that offered ; previously subjecting 
him, however, to a test. " For what animal have you the most 
repugnance?" she asked. "For rats." "What animal do you 
prefer ?" " The dog." She gave him her treasures without hes- 
itation ; aversion to rats indicating a sound conscience, and par- 
tiality to dogs proving fidelity and sincerity. 

The processes to which M'Ue Lenormand had recourse are not 
distinctly known. A late work, entitled "Modern Mysteries," 
thus speaks of her : "All who visited her, from whatever part of 
the kingdom or of the world they came, were astonished and not 
unfrequently confounded by the minute and specific revelations 
of their past history which they would receive through the py- 
thoness. In her case, there would be equally strange revelations 
in regard to the future, and other facts unknown to her visitors ; 
she, no doubt, while in a magnetic state, being a very powerful 
clairvoyant. The visitor has in his mind visions and plans in re- 
gard to the future. Social and especially domestic connections may 
be formed, desired or intended, with specific individuals or with 
imaginary personages figured forth in his mind, in conformity 
with the heart's beau ideal. In the presence of the fortune-teller, 
and in anticipation of such revelations, these plans and persons, 
real or imaginary, are of course suggested to the inquirer. 
Through his or her mind they are reproduced in that of the py- 
thoness, and by her given forth as revelations communicated by 
higher powers to her mind. It is thus, no doubt, that the image 
of the person with whom conjugal relations are afterwards con- 
summated, is sometimes presented as a prophetic enunciation to 



AN INTRIGUE AT THE TUILERIES. 331 

the inquirer, and by him ever after regarded as proof of real pro- 
phetic foresight in the fortune-teller." 

However this may be, as one of the biographers of M'Ue 
Lenormand has remarked, witch or no witch, a certain share of 
admiration will always be due to her, for having contrived to be 
believed in an age which neither believed in God and his angels, 
nor in the devil and his imps. 

Madame Junot, speaking of Josephine and of her connection 
with Mile Lenormand, says : " The fancy, or rather the mad pas- 
sion of Josephine for fortune tellers and everything relating to 
necromancy, is well known. Though she at one time promised 
Kapoleon never to see M'Ue Lenormand again, she continued se- 
cretly to admit her to her intimacy, and overwhelmed her with 
presents ; she also summoned to the Tuileries every man and wo- 
man that professed to be skilled in the forbidden mysteries."' 
One incident of serious moment in the life of Josephine — for it 
convinced Napoleon's mother of the necessity of a divorce — 
sprang from her inclination for the black art and its adepts. 
This incident was as foUows : 

Early in November, 1809, the Emperor, learning that a wo- 
man who was a dealer in second-hand jewelry and wearing appa- 
rel, had been seen in the palace, gave orders that no person ex- 
ercising such a calling should thenceforward be admitted. He 
also forbade Josephine to receive, as she desired to do, a German 
sorcerer named Hermann — a man of imposing manners and of 
remarkable personal attractions — on the ground that his character 
was doubtful and his purpose in Paris suspicious. On the night 
of the 5th of the month, Napoleon returned unexpectedly from 
an intended hunt at Fontainebleau, and proceeding noiselessly to 
Josephine's apartment, opened the door and entered. He found 
her closeted with two persons : the forbidden dealer in jewelry 
and the prohibited necromancer. 

He strode forward to the Empress, and raising his hand over 

Hist, des Sulons de Paria, v. 110. 



332 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

her as if to strike her, said in tones of concentrated wratli : "How 
dare you thus violate my commands ? How can you be willing 
to give audience to such people as these ?" 

"It was Madame Lsetitia that sent her to me," stanmiered 
Josephine. 

"And this man, how came he here?" pursued Napoleon. 

"He came with the woman," returned Josephine. 

Hermann here stepped forward, and drawing himself up to 
his full height, said in a firm voice to his Majesty : "In com- 
ing to the imperial palace of France, I did not suppose I was 
risking either my life or my liberty. I obeyed the call made 
upon me ; I have endeavored to unfold the future to her who 
has faith in my science, and I have not to reproach myself with 
having withheld my assistance. As to you, sire, you would do 
better to consult the stars than to brave them." 

Napoleon looked at this singular and fearless being with curi- 
osity not unmixed with admiration. " Who are you," he asked, 
" and what are you doing at Paris ?" 

"You know already what I do, sire" — showing the cards 
upon the table. "What I am, would be more difficult to tell ; 
I hardly know myself ; who does know himself ?" 

Napoleon stepped to the door and summoned Duroc. " Put 
this woman at once out of the palace," he said, " and let M. Her- 
mann go with her." This was done, and the handsome fortune- 
teller disappeared speedily from the palace and as speedily from 
Paris. 

The next morning, early, Madame M^re was awakened by a 
message from Josephine. The Empress implored her, in case 
she was questioned by Napoleon, to say that she had sent her the 
day before a woman with shawls and a German with cards ; and 
Madame Lsetitia, beheving the matter to be no more serious than 
Josephine's usual indiscretions, and desirous of preventing a 
quarrel, consented to assume this responsibility. She did so, 
upon being interrogated by the Emperor ; but upon learning 



THE STRATAGEM DISCOVERED. 333 

from him that Hermann was believed to be an adroit spy in the 
pay of England, and that he had obtained access to Josephine by 
playing upon her superstitions ; upon hearing further that Kapo- 
leon had positively forbidden the admission of dealers in second- 
hand wares to the palace, and that Josephine's disobedience was 
willful, she acknowledged that she knew nothing of the affair, and 
that her alleged complicity was a stratagem contrived by Jo- 
sephine. Madame Mere said to Madame Junot, after narrating 
this incident, "I hope that this time the Emperor will have the 
courage to resolve upon a step that not only France, but Europe, 
awaits with anxiety : the divorce is an act of necessity." 

In detailing the incidents of M'lle Lenormand's life, we have 
sufficiently described the state of the art of fortune-telling in 
France and the consideration with which it was regarded, during 
the period of her professorship. Her success does not seem to 
have been derived from any previous credit accorded to the art 
of necromancy, but was the result rather of her remarkable skill 
and the tendency of an atheistic age to fiU the void it had itself 
created, with superstitious dreams. She established a faith in 
astrology and chiromancy, for a time ; they fell, however, into 
disrepute at her death, being afterwards exercised only by ac- 
knowledged chai-latans, and obtaining support only from the 
ignorant and the credulous. 



CHAPTER XIVII. 

Napoleon's Early Loves — M'lle du Colombier — ^M'lle Eugenie Clary — Madame de Permon — 
Josephine — Her Education and First Marriage — Separation from her Husband — Josephine and 
Barras — Josephine's Marriage nitU Napoleon — The Honeymoon at Milan — M. Charles — Bona- 
parte's return from Egypt — His quarrel and reconciliation with Josephine — The conduct of 
the latter during the Consulate — Her Jealousies — Her proposal to resort to a Political Fraud 
— The Divorce — Josephuie at Malmaison and Navarre — Her Death — Misapprehensions in 
regard to her Character — Reasons for this Misapprehension — French views of Private Charac- 
ter — Marie Louise — Her Youth and Education — The Overtures of Napoleon — A Marriage by 
proxy — Journey to Paris — ^Proceedings upon the Bavarian Frontier — The first interview of 
Napoleon and Marie Louise — The Marriage — Organization of the Household — Adventures of 
M. Biennais, M. Paer, and M. Leroy — Birth of the King of Rome — The Russian Campaign — 
The Treaty of Fontainebleau — Marie Louise at Blois — Her life at Parma — ^The Count de Neip- 
perg — Death of Marie Louise — Napoleon's Ignorance of her Conduct. 

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE did not marry his first love, nor 
his second, nor even his third. Before speaking of his two 
Empresses, Josephine de Beauharnais and Marie Louise, it may 
be well to mention briefly the three ladies to whom in early hfe 
he had been attached — by one of whom he was accepted, and by 
two of whom he was refused — M'lle du Colombier, M'lle Bug^nie- 
D^sir^e Clary, and the widow de Permon. 

The account of his love-passage with M'lle du Colombier we 
give in words attributed to Napoleon himself, who speaks in the 
first person. The period in which he thus narrates the adventure 
is the year 1799 ; he has just been appointed First Consul, and 
is alone at the Luxembourg with Cambaclr^s, the Second Consul, 
and Maret, Secretary of State ; Josephine, Hortense, Pauline and 
Caroline Bonaparte are at the opera, to witness the new ballet of 
Psyche. Napoleon appears absoi'bed in reflections excited by a 
letter which he has read and re-read, and which he still holds open 



MADAME DU COLOMBIER. 335 

in his hand. The conversation turns upon early loves, and at the 
request of Cambac6r^s, Napoleon gives the following account of 
his first passion — one which, at the age of sixteen, he fully be- 
lieved would be his last. This account, though in language put 
into the mouth of Napoleon for the author's own purposes, contains 
none but incidents which have been well authenticated, and which 
have passed into the domain of veritable history — with the ex- 
ception of those of the pet dog and the pocket mirror. We retain 
these episodes of the narrative, though clearly apocryphal, for the 
purpose of showing, by a single example, to what an extent the 
practice was carried, after Napoleon's fall, of gratifying the public 
curiosity concerning him by the publication of amusing details of 
his private life, though without any pretence to historical accu- 
racy. The First Consul speaks substantially as follows : 

" I had just left the military school, proud as a peacock, and 
ignorant as a priest. I was transferred to the Grenoble regiment 
of artillery, and my detachment was quartered at Valence. I had 
the good fortune to be admitted to the acquaintance of Madame 
du Colombier — one of those ladies who are the honor of their sex, 
and whose qualities, virtues and merit replace their beauty at 
its decline. I felt myself attracted towards this respectable ma- 
tron, and she felt a similar sympathy for me, for on my third visit 
she said, ' I am depressed in spirits to-night ; enliven me by nar- 
rating your history.' ' That of a lieutenant of artillery is short,' 
I replied. ' No matter,' she returned, ' it is always well to know 
those towards whom our inclinations impel us.' So I rehearsed 
our genealogical tree, and traced my pedigree back to Pepin the 
Short. Madame du Colombier was amused, and presented me, 
with marked emphasis, to the Abbe de St. RuiFe, and interested 
in my welfare the commander of my detachment. 

' ' Soon after, I felt myself yielding to the influence of a most ty- 
rannical sentiment ; in short, I was in love with her daughter, or, 
at least, I thought so. This young lady, sixteen like myself, more 
winning than beautiful, mild, good, modest and sincere, appeared 



336 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

to me like a nymph, the first time I saw her. One of the manias 
of young men is to suppose themselves stricken for life, the mo- 
ment their poor hearts are taken captive. So, after holding coun- 
sel with myself, I imagined that I had found in M'lle du Colom- 
bier the partner of my whole existence. 

" My passion was a violent one ; I lost my appetite ; I passed 
sleepless nights ; I abandoned my studies, or prosecuted them 
with distaste. Do not suppose that I had confessed my love to 
the object of it ; I did not feel that I possessed the necessary 
courage. But though I spoke not by word of mouth, I pursued 
my lovely charmer with significant glances ; my steps waylaid 
hers ; I followed her close, I drank from her tumbler, I ate from 
her plate. She had a dog named MIdor, a fat, surly, tailless and 
earless animal, who was the object of her tenderest regard. No 
courtier ever showered such incense on a king as I did on this 
hideous beast. I patted, petted, carried and kissed him ; I felt 
that eveiy act of degradation committed before this wretched 
creature, was so much ground gained in the heart of his mistress. 

" It is rare for a girl of sixteen not to divine a passion that 
she has inspired. M'lle du Colombier was not long in making 
the discovery. I saw it by her altered manners, by her embar- 
rassment when I spoke to her, by her following my movements 
with her eyes, by a singular mixture of coquetry, innocence, pride 
and satisfaction, by her morning welcomes, which were now gra- 
cious and now cold ; and by a way she had of seeming to avoid 
me, but as it were on condition that I should pursue her. Later 
in life, I should have perfectly understood this system of pro- 
ceeding ; but it rendered me then cruelly unhappy, and I accused 
her of indifference and taxed her with trifling, and often left the 
parlor to retire alone to the garden and weep. 

" One morning I read, intending to profit by it, Ovid's Art 
of Love. One item of advice struck me : that which consists, 
according to the Latin poet, in giving a refractory lady to under- 
stand that others than herself may kindle the tender passion. So 



NAPOLEON'S FIRST LOVE. 337 

I bought a small case covered with morocco, containing a pocket- 
looking-glass set in silver-gilt. Its oval form naturally suggested 
the presence of a portrait, and several times that day I drew it 
stealthily forth, and contemplated it in silent extasy, taking good 
care to place myself in full view of my ungrateful mistress. 

"Her first glance enhghtened her. She cautiously approached 
me ; I brought matters to a climax by imprinting a passionate 
kiss upon the reflection of my own lips. She abruptly fled from 
the parlor. I hurried into the garden, sat down upon a rustic 
staircase and waited. A shadow fell upon me, and the silhouette 
of a young lady darkened the gravel walk. I feigned surprise, 
hurriedly thrust the morocco case into my pocket, and prepared 
to withdraw. But she retained me in a voice at once imperious 
and sweet, and said, not without emotion : 

" ' Come, Monsieur Napoleon, give me that portrait ; it must 
be the lady that you love, and I want very much to know her.' 

" ' Very well, you shall be satisfied ; but if you are offended, 
do not accuse me, for I only yield to your express commands. 
Within this case you will find the portrait of the girl I love.' 

" I then stepped aside, proud of my ruse, and believing my- 
self the author of an invention which many lovers had employed 
before me, and usually with a success which justified the means. 
The poor child worked at the spring of the case, with an impa- 
tience truly feminine ; at last, the clasp fell apart under the pres- 
sure of her tiny fingers. She fixed her eye upon the glass, from 
whence her own image was reflected, and a suppressed cry of joy, 
terror, wounded pride, offended modesty and gratified hope, es- 
caped from her lips. She stood motionless, and seemed to be 
seeking for the means of administering a reproof, for appearance 
sake, which, in her heart, she did not believe either necessary or 
opportune. 

"At this juncture, the idea occurred to me that if timidity 
became the tender sex, resolution and audacity became mine. I 
threw myself at the feet of my enchantress, begged her to pardon 

43 



338 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

me and to believe in the sincerity of an affection which I was 
ready to sanctify by the holy bonds of wedlock. This last word 
has an all-powerful charm for young women. I saw that I was 
loved, by her blushes, her pallor, her laughter and her tears. I 
seized her hand and covered it with kisses, supposing that I was 
thus obtaining the supremest favors she could grant. "We both 
of us dreamed of a rose-colored future. No culpable thoughts 
soiled our imaginations. My whole happiness consisted in the 
frequency of my visits, in the divine smile with which I was re- 
ceived, in a hurried phrase half uttered and half heard, and in a 
chance pressure of her hand. One morning, at six o'clock, we 
both stole to the orchard which adjoined her mother's house. We 
were absolutely alone ; you will hardly believe me, but the two 
sweetest hours of my life were passed in playing at battledore, 
and in eating a huge basketful of cherries." * 

Here the First Consul suspended his narrative, and remained 
for a while pensive. At last Maret asked, " But what became of 
M'Ue du Colombier, General ? What was the sequel of this 
chaste adventure ?" 

' ' It never had any, citizen : or at least none other than the usual 
sequel to the dreams and romances of lieutenants of artillery. 
The Revolution broke out, and I was sent to another garrison. 
We swore eternal fidelity, but the impossibility of corresponding 
hopelessly separated us. Carried on by the course of events, I 
married Madame de Beauharnais in 1796. And I now hold in my 
hand," showing the open letter, "a petition from M'Ue du Co- 
lombier, in which I learn that she is the wife of M. de Bressieux. 
Citizen Maret, you will read the petition, and you will grant the 
request which it contains."^ 

It does not appear, however, that the favor asked was ac- 
corded at this period. Napoleon saw Madame de Bressieux at 
Lyons, in 1805, when he expressed astonishment at the ravages 

* The portrait of M'lle du Colombier, upon the opposite page, is taken from a picture by an unknown artist, 
placed by its possessor at the disposal of the designer. 
1 Napoleon et ses Contemporains, i. 51. 





Drawa by XChainpagiie 



Ni^J^OLEON'S FIRST LOVE. 



NAPOLEON'S SECOND LOVE. 339 

of time and the desolation wrought by twenty years. He gave 
her husband a kicrative office, and made his first love a lady com- 
panion in the household of his mother. 

Madame Junot thus speaks of her at the age of thirty-five ; 
"I had heard from Napoleon himself that there had existed in 
early youth a project of- marrying him to M'Ue du Colombier ; 
and I had in consequence a strong desire to see her. I found 
her witty, agreeable, mild and amiable. Without being hand- 
some, she was very pleasing, her form was graceful, and her ad- 
dress remarkably engaging. I easily understood that Napoleon 
might have gathered cherries with her without any improper 
thought, and confining himself entirely to harmless chat. One 
peculiarity which struck me the first time I saw her, was the in- 
terest with which she watched Napoleon's slightest movement, 
her eye following him with an attention which seemed to ema- 
nate from her very soul." Madame de Bressieux was the suc- 
cessor of Madame de St. Pern in the establishment of Madame 
Mfere ; she did not yet form part of it at the period to which our 
enumeration of the ladies composing it, in a previous chapter, 
refers. 

In 1795, Joseph Bonaparte married M'Ue Julie Clary, daugh- 
ter of a rich Marseilles merchant, and Napoleon being thus 
thrown into the society of her younger sister, Bugenie-Desiree, 
became much attached to her, and would gladly have married her, 
had her family been willing. But the father was of opinion that 
to give two daughters to two Bonapartes would be an imprudence 
if not a sacrifice, and opposed the match. M'Ue Eugenie, we are 
thus authorized to believe, might have become Empress of the 
French in 1804 ; but by marrying Bernadotte, she became Queen 
of Sweden in 1818. 

Napoleon at Paris wrote as follows to Joseph at Genoa, in 
1795 : " You never speak to me of Eugenie ; no more do you of 
the children you are to have with Julie. Give us a little nephew, 
won't you ? Good heavens, man, you must make a beginning ! 



340 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

" Give my compliments to Julie, and my regards to her silent 
sister."^ 

Writing to Joseph some thirty days later, he said: "Think 
of my little matter, for I have the folly to want a home ; my re- 
lations with Eugenie must either be arranged or broken off. I 
await your reply with impatience." ^ 

Again, he wrote as follows : " Desiree has asked me for my 
portrait, and I mean to have it taken. You will give it to her 
if she stiU desires it, if not, you may keep it for yourself .... 
I have heard nothing from you since your departure for Genoa : 
to get there, I should suppose you had crossed the river Lethe, 
for D6sir6e writes me not a word."* 

Joseph, in his memoirs, thus refers to the marriage of Napo- 
leon and Josephine: "This event dissipated the hope entertained 
by my wife and myself, that our project, formed several years 
previously, of an alliance between her sister and my brother, 
might yet be realized. Time and absence disposed of them 
otherwise."* This was Napoleon's second love. 

On the 8th of October, 1795, Madame de Permon, a lady of 
Corsican birth and of Greek descent, became a widow. She was 
exactly the age of Napoleon's mother, and that lady and herself — 
Lsetitia Ramolini, and Panoria Comnenus — had been in their youth 
the beauties of Ajaccio. Their attractions, however, were of so 
opposite a nature, that jealousy never occurred to them, and their 
friendship endured through life. M'lle Panoria married M. de 
Permon, and M'lle Lsetitia married Carlo Bonaparte. Madame 
de Permon, herself the mother of a family, often carried her play- 
mate's second son, Napoleon, in her arms, and even danced him 
on her knees. When, therefore, she became a widow, at the age 
of forty-four, Napoleon being but a few months over twenty-six, 
she was certainly justified in expressing astonishment at, and in 
treating with levity, a proposition which the young officer one 
day made to her. 

1 2 3 M^m. du Roi Joseph, i. 181-139. ^ Itid. i- 60. 



NAPOLEON'S THIRD LOVE. 341 

Slie was in deep mourning, and lived in absolute retirement. 
Her physician having advised her, however, to allow herself some 
recreation, she consented to an incognito attendance at the opera, 
for a short season. Napoleon, who was a constant visitor at her 
house, profited by the opportunities thus presented, and passed 
every evening in the society of the widow. A few days afterwards 
he proposed to her an alhance, which should forever unite the 
two families. "It is," added he, "between my sister Pauline 
and your son Albert. Albert has some fortune ; my sister has 
nothing ; but I am in a condition to obtain much for those who 
are related to me, and I can get a good office for her husband. 
The alliance would make me happy. You know what a pretty 
girl my sister is. My mother is your friend. Come, say yes, and 
the matter shall be settled." 

Madame de Permon replied that she could not answer for her 
son, and that she should not influence his decision. Napoleon 
then proposed another match between his brother Jerome and 
Madame de Permon's daughter, M'lle Laura. "Why, Jerome 
is younger than Laurette," said the widow, laughing. " Indeed, 
Napoleon, you are playing the high priest to-day, and marrying 
everybody, even children." Napoleon then confessed that that 
morning a marriage-breeze had blown over him, and that he had 
a third union to propose — an alliance between her and himself, 
as soon as etiquette and a regard to propriety would permit it. 

Madame de Permon was at first amazed, and then amused. 
She burst into a hearty laugh, at which the petitioner was sorely 
vexed. "My dear Napoleon, let us talk seriously. You fancy 
you are acquainted with my age. The truth is, you know nothing 
about it. I shall not tell it to you, for it is one of my little weak- 
nesses. I shall merely say that I am old enough to be your mo- 
ther and Joseph's too. Spare me this kind of joke ; it distresses 
me, coming from you." Napoleon assured her that he was se- 
rious ; that the age of the woman whom he should marry was 
indifferent to him, provided, like herself, she did not appear to 



342 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

be past thirty ; that he had maturely considered the proposal he 
had made ; that he wished to marry, and that the idea he had sug- 
gested suited him in every respect. At any rate, he asked her to 
think of it. She gave him her hand, and said that her preten- 
sions did not aspire to conquer the heart of a young man of 
twenty-six, and that she hoped their friendship would not be in- 
terrupted by this incident. 

Madame de Permon spoke to her son that evening upon the 
subject of a marriage with Napoleon's sister. The young man 
declined promptly and decisively. The proposed aUiance between 
Jerome and Laurette was never taken into serious consideration. 
That between the widow and Napoleon was defeated — if, indeed, 
it was ever entertained by the lady — by a quarrel which ended 
in mutual hostility. She had previously applied to him for a 
commission for a Corsican cousin, and Napoleon having promised 
it twice for the following day, twice forgot it. The widow was 
incensed, and as Napoleon once offered to kiss her hand, she drew 
it from him with violence and struck him, unintentionally but 
severely, in the eye. This was in presence of several of his aids- 
de-camp, and seriously mortified him. He never forgave her. 
He considered himself to have been treated like a child, or a 
school-boy fresh from Brienne. The rupture was complete, and 
in the sequel produced ill-will and acrimony on both sides. 

Napoleon's motive in proposing this alliance was an ambitious 
one. At this period, he looked upon marriage as a means of 
advancement, and the union of the name of Comnenus with that 
of Calom^ros — the ancestor of the Bonapartes — seemed to offer 
every guarantee of speedy promotion. Soon after, Madame de 
Permon lost her eldest daughter, C^cile ; Napoleon called to pay 
a visit of condolence, and to assure her of his unaltered friend- 
ship. He was already married to Josephine de Beauharnais. ^ 

" Never," says Alison, speaking of the period in which these 
events took place, "never did such destinies depend upon the 



EREOES IN EEGAED TO JOSEPHINE. 343 

decision oi' caprice of the moment. Madame de Permon, a lady 
of rank and singular attractions from Corsica, in whose family 
N"apoleon had from infancy been intimate, and whose daughter 
afterwards became Duchess d'Abrant^s, refused in one morning 
the hand of Napoleon for herself, that of his brother Joseph for 
her daughter, and that of his sister Pauline for her son. She 
little thought that she was declining for herself the throne of 
Charlemagne ; for her daughter that of Charles V. ; and for her 
son, the most beautiful princess in Europe." ^ The historian has, 
however, committed an error in substituting Joseph for Jerome. 
Joseph was already married to M'Ue Clary. 

A word or two will now be necessary to prepare the Ameri- 
can reader for an estimate of the character of Josephine — the 
next in chronological order of Bonaparte's attachments — which 
will probably be a sui'prise and a disappointment. By the graces 
of her mind and disposition, by the simple grandeur with which 
she bore her elevation and the dignity with which she sus- 
tained affliction, Josephine has, as it were, tampered with her 
biographers. She has suborned history by her amenity, and cor- 
rupted the judgment of the world by the temper with which she 
supported misfortune. ISTo historical personage has been so mis- 
represented as Josephine — no character has been so distorted as 
hers. Extenuation, concealment, apology, have been exhausted 
in behalf of the winning Creole and the repudiated Empress. 
The chroniclers who have written for English and American eyes 
have sought to forget or to ignore the vices and the debaucheries 
of her early life. They have succeeded in producing a universal 
and persistent misapprehension respecting her. They have pre- 
sented as a model of womanly virtue, one who, during thirty years 
of her life, offered a dangerous and pernicious example. We 
shall inquire into the causes of this remarkable perversion, when 
we have briefly and impartially rehearsed the principal incidents 
of her career. 

1 Em-ope, iii. 179. 



344 THE COUKT OF NAPOLEON. 

Marie-Josepli-Rose Tascher de la Pagerie, known in histoiy 
by the feminine diminutive of Josephine, was born in Martinique, 
on the 24th of June, 1763. Her parents were French, and had 
settled in the colonies in the hope of bettering their fortunes. 
They gave their daughter the best education the island could 
afford, and as Martinique was at this period the asylum of many 
French families of wealth and refinement, who had fled from dis- 
turbance in the mother country, this was nearly as perfect as she 
could have obtained in France. The cultivation thus furnished 
was bestowed upon a propitious and grateful soil, and Josephine, 
at the age of fifteen, was already a young lady of remarkable 
beauty and of many accomplishments. It would appear that she 
was thus early attached to a Creole youth of her own age, upon 
whom she lavished all the ardor of her precocious tropical pas- 
sions.^ Though thus devoted to another, she married, at the age 
of sixteen, through considerations altogether foreign to her incli- 
nations, the Vicomte Alexandre de Beauharnais, a resident in, 
but not a native of, Martinique, and like herself, attached in an- 
other quarter. They at once embarked for France. The union 
was an unhappy one, being disturbed by mutual suspicions 
of infidelity. Beauharnais soon became aware of the presence in 
France, of Josephine's island lover, whom he had supposed aban- 
doned in Martinique ; and Josephine was made acquainted with 
the birth of a natural son of her husband. Upon her presenta- 
tion at the palace of Marie Antoinette, the grace of her manners 
and the charm of her conversation drew around her a throng of 
admirers of rank and official position. She soon became a parti- 
cipator in the scandals and the excesses of a corrupt court. Her 
conduct was such as amply to justify her husband in the steps 
which he took to procure a divorce. He sailed for Martinique to 
obtain details respecting her behavior previous to her marriage, 
and upon his return, applied to the Parliament of Paris for a sepa- 
ration. Josej)hine controlled powerful protection, and the verdict 

1 Michaud, Biog. Univ., Sui>pl(:uicut, Ixvili. 225. 



JOSEPHINE AND BARRAS. 345 

was altogether in her favor. It was enjomed upon Beauharnais 
to receive his wife to his bed and board, if she desired to return ; 
otherwise, to secure her an annuity of 10,000 francs. No recon- 
ciliation took place till three years from this time, when, as has 
been already stated, Hortense convinced her father, by her resem- 
blance to himself in a boy's costume, of the injustice of his suspi- 
cions of his wife — for he had never before considered Hortense 
as his daughter. 

The Revolution now speedily ensued. Beauharnais lost his 
life upon the scaffold, and Josephine was herself a prisoner. When 
released by the sudden fall of Robespierre, she found herself well- 
nigh friendless and alone. Her late associates were royalists, and 
consequently had been dispersed by the Reign of Terror. Ma- 
dame Tallien, whose acquaintance she had made in the dungeon 
of the Carmes, was almost her only resource : her friendship pro- 
cured her amusement, occupation, and finally protection. She 
presented her to Barras, the most influential of the Five Direc- 
tors. His relations with Madame Tallien were at this time of the 
most intimate nature, but so sincere was the attachment of the 
latter for Josephine, that she consented to her admission, upon 
an equal footing with herself, into the advantages and pleasures 
of the partnership. Josephine became the acknowledged favorite 
of the great voluptuary.^ It was during this connection that she 
acquired those habits of extravagance which afterwards so embit- 
tered and embroiled her relations with Bonaparte, and which 
conduced so largely to his estrangement. The purse of Barras 
was for a time open to all her necessities and exactions ; the 
sums which she thus lightly obtained and recklessly spent, were 
sufficiently large to induce in her that contempt for money and 
that indifference to pecuniary responsibility, which is an invaria- 
ble characteristic of women who draw their means from corrupt 
and illegitimate sources. It was the careless license of the salon 
of Barras which gave to Josephine that readiness for making 

1 Alison's Eui-ope, iii. 11. 

44 



346 ■ THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

acquaintances, that tendency to the formation of hasty and im- 
proper intimacies, which afterwards so harassed Napoleon.^ 

Josephine had been twice encouraged to look forward to a 
brilHant and regal destiny ; the throne of France had been twice 
promised her by persons whom she believed or affected to believe. 
Her life at this period was nevertheless not that of one preparing 
to sustain the position of the first lady in Europe. The epoch 
was venal and dissolute, and Josephine was in no respect above 
the manners and morals of the age. She who was to occupy the 
throne with a grace and dignity which should charm the world, 
and to fall from it with a resignation which should move all hearts ; 
she who was to fill history with the records of her amiable supre- 
macy and of her beneficent reign, led at this disgraceful period, 
the life of a fashionable, though exclusive, courtesan.^ Barras 
was her protector : General Hoche was her lover. 

Bonaparte could hardly have been ignorant of the gallant 
adventures of Josephine, at the time of his first acquaintance 
with her. It was during her liaison with Barras that the latter 
proposed an alliance between herself and Bonaparte — an impor- 
tant condition of which was to be the appointment of the young- 
general to the command of the Italian army. Such a knowledge 
would have arrested a more scrupulous admirer, but it seems, on 
the contrary, to have decided the aspiring officer. Barras was 
exceedingly anxious that the marriage should take place, for 
Josephine had become a heavy encumbrance upon his resources, 
and Bonaparte felt that in espousing her, he should relieve his 
influential patron of a wearisome burden, and save him the fa- 
tigues and the annoyances of an exhausted passion.* Neverthe- 
less, ambition was not his only motive, for he was at the time 
deeply impressed by Josephine's many attractions, and he gave 
her, during the early years of their union, proofs of a real and 
disinterested attachment. 

On her part, Josephine was not by any means prepossessed 

1 Capefigue, ii. 233. 2 Miohaud, Ixviii. 229. 3 Capeflgue, ix. 286. 



JOSEPHINE AND BONAPARTE. 347 

in favor of Bonaparte, nor was she at all desirous of contracting 
a second marriage. Her first union had been unhappy, and she 
had found, besides, greater satisfaction in the independence of a 
widow than in the responsibilities of a wife. A letter written by 
her at this period gives a picture of the irresolution by which she 
was beset : 

"I am advised to marry, my dear friend ; all my acquaint- 
ances desire it, my aunt insists upon it, and my children urge me 
to accede. If you were but here to. give me your counsel at this 
important juncture, and to persuade me that I should be right in 
putting an end, by this union, to the embarrassment of my present 
position ! You have seen G-eneral Bonaparte at my house : it is 
he who offers to supjoly the place of their father to the orphans 
of Alexandre de Beauharnais. 

" 'Do you love him?' you will ask me. Well — no. 'You 
feel aversion towards him, then ? ' No. But I am in a state of 
indifference which annoys me — a condition which the devout con- 
sider a most dangerous one in religion— for love is a species of 
worship. This is why I have need of your advice, to stay the 
perpetual irresolutions of my feeble character. To have a will 
of my own always seemed an effort to my Creole listlessness, 

which is infinitely more ready to follow the will of another 

Barras assures me that if I marry the general, he will obtain for 
him the Italian command 

" Were it not for this project which harasses me, I should be 
happy enough. As long as it is a project, I shall be uneasy : 
once concluded, come what may, I shall be resigned. 

"We have agreed to suppress the usual conclusions of let- 
ters : so, adieu, dear friend."^ 

Napoleon Bonaparte and Marie-Joseph de Beauharnais were 
civiUy married at Paris on the 9th of March, 1796 ; the religious 
ceremony took place, five years afterwards, in the chapel of the 
Tuileries, but Napoleon forbade that any announcement of the 

1 Ducrest, 137. 



348 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

fact should be made in the Moniteur. Twelve days after the civil 
marriage, Bonaparte departed for the Italian campaign. 

His letters, during the early portion of the war, breathed the 
most ardent love, mingled with reproaches for Josephine's cold- 
ness and distrust of her constancy. In one of them he accused 
her of loving her favorite cat, Papin, better than him. He beg- 
ged her to follow him to Lombardy, and after a long delay, and 
many hesitations, she complied. It was under the escort of Junot 
that she travelled to Milan, where her husband awaited her. 
Junot paid assiduous court, on the road, to Josephine's chamber- 
maid, M'lle Louise, for which indecorous act, by the way, the 
future Empress never forgave him. 

Napoleon's honeymoon was passed at the Serbelloni palace, in 
the capital of Lombardy, where Josephine was established in sov- 
ereign state. It was marred by an unpardonable piece of levity, 
if not worse, on the part of the bride. A young man of twenty- 
eight years, by the name of Charles, of slight form and dark com- 
plexion, with black hair, and wearing a superb hussar's uniform, 
obtained an introduction to her in his capacity of aid-de-camp to 
General Leclerc, the husband of Pauline Bonaparte. Napoleon 
was frequently absent, and when Josephine did not breakfast 
with her husband, she breakfasted with M. Charles. She thus 
furnished the army and the town of Milan with a theme of scan- 
dal and a ground for accusation. She was closely watched by 
Pauline, who felt that her brother's honor was in jeopardy. Bo- 
naparte was at last informed of what was passing in the palace. 
Charles was arrested, and a rumor spread through the camp that 
he was to be shot. His punishment was, however, dismissal from 
the army. He returned to Paris and entered mercantile life. 
We shall find him, three years subsequently, during Bonaparte's 
absence in Egypt, passing the summer with Josephine at her 
country-seat of Malmaison. 

Pauline said of this intrigue, sometime afterwards : " In short, 
Laurette, Josephine nearly died of vexation, and we certainly do 



INCONSTANCIES OF JOSEPHINE. 349 

not die of vexation in merely parting with our friends. There 
must be more than friendship concerned in this matter. For one, 
I comforted my poor brother, who was very unhappy." ^ Bona- 
parte was severely tried by this and other improprieties on Jo- 
sephine's part, and once, in a fit of jealousy, he killed, with a sin- 
gle blow of his foot, a lap-dog that had been given her by General 
Hoche. Regretting his violence, he afterwards caused a small 
monument to be erected to the pet in the gardens of Mondeze, in 
the vicinity of Milan.^ Josephine returned to Paris before Napo- 
leon ; her conduct gave him constant cause for apprehension, so 
much so that he descended to the indignity of placing his coach- 
man, Antoine, as a spy upon her movements. When he left for 
Egypt, in 1798, it was with a despondent feeling of the danger 
he was incurring. 

Josephine had not yet resolved to break loose from the con- 
nections she had formed and the habits she had contracted. She 
was constantly in the society of Madame Tallien, despite Bona- 
parte's prohibition. He had left her 40,000 francs for the first 
year of his absence, but was twice obliged, during that period, to 
forward her an equal amount. He had authorized her to pur- 
chase a country-seat ; she chose Malmaison, agreeing to pay a 
sum more than treble that to which she had been limited. This 
unacquitted debt hung over her for years.^ She borrowed money 
of numerous persons — of Ouvrard, the ai-my contractor, espe- 
cially — few of whom were ever paid. It was now that she invited 
M. Charles to visit her at her chateau. She paid no attention to 
the representations of friends that his residence under her roof 
compromised her in the eyes of the world. " Divorce from Bona- 
parte and many Charles," said Gohier, a member of the govern- 
ment and one of her advisers. "You tell me that it is only 
friendship that exists between you and M. Charles ; but if that 
friendship is so powerful that it impels you to violate the observ- 
ances of society, I say to you, as if it were love, obtain a divorce ; 

1 d'Abr. i. 409. 2 Michaud, Ixviii. 234. It Ibid. 2-36. 



350 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

a friendship so exclusive will stand in place of all other senti- 
ments."^ 

When Bonaparte, still in Egypt, was informed of the renewal 
of the intrigue with Charles, he said to his future secretary : 
" Bourrienne, I must exterminate this race of sparks and cox- 
combs.''^ The brothers and sisters of Bonaparte, who had from 
the commencement disliked Josephine, never pardoned her for 
her present conduct, which compromised the honor of their bro- 
ther — their common patrimony. How could a woman, they said, 
be so wanting in self-respect as to forget, in her Creole sensuality, 
the hero of Marengo and Egypt ?* In their letters to Bonaparte, 
they strongly urged the propriety, the necessity even, of a divorce. 
When Bonaparte's sudden and unexpected return and arrival at 
Frejus was announced, Josephine's manner plainly showed to 
what deep uneasiness she was a prey. She resolved upon in- 
stantly setting out to meet him, and after borrowing one thou- 
sand francs of Barras,* she started for Lyons with her brother-in- 
law, Louis. She missed him, however, through a change of 
route on his part, and on his arrival at Paris, where he was at 
once waited upon by mother, brothers and sisters, he found his 
home silent and deserted ; he never forgot the impression made 
upon him by his desolate and abandoned fireside. He declared 
the journey to Lyons to be a mere pretext to avoid him, and be- 
lieved that Josephine had fled from consciousness of guilt. 

"All is finished," he said to M. CoUot, the financier, " between 
her and me !" " Now is not, at any rate," returned CoUot, " the 
proper time for such a step. Think of France ; her eyes are 
fixed upon you. She expects your every instant to be devoted 
to her salvation ; if she sees that you allow yourself to be tor- 
mented by domestic grievances, your greatness disappears, and 
you become, in her esteem, but as a husband in Moli^re. Forget 
for a time the misconduct of your wife. If you are dissatisfied 

1 (I'Abr. i. 411. 3 Capefigue, ii. 238. 

2 Michaud, Ixriii. 237. ■> Michaud, Ixvili. 238. 



THE RECONCILIATION. 351 

with her, remove her when you have nothing better to do, but 
begin by restoring the state." "No," interrupted Bonaparte, 
vehementljr, "my mind is made up; she shall never again set 
foot in my house ! What care I for what the world says ? Paris 
will gossip for a day or two over it, and forget it the third. In 
the midst of this daily throng of events, what is a rupture be- 
tween man and wife ? Mine will pass unnoticed. She shall go 
to Malmaison, I will stay where I am. The public knows already 
enough of the affair not to be deceived upon the cause of the 
separation."^ 

Bourrienne seconded Collot in his attempts to effect a recon- 
ciliation. He represented to Bonaparte how injudicious and dan- 
gerous it would be, at this turning point of his fortunes, to oc- 
cupy France and Europe with the scandalous details of a suit at 
law — a public accusation of adultery. When Josephine returned 
from Lyons, Bonaparte for three days refused to see her. Every 
member of his family, with the exception of Louis, encouraged 
him to persevere. One evening Josephine and her two children 
approached in tears and in distress the forlorn house in the Rue 
Chantereine. Eugene was now nineteen years old and Hortense 
sixteen. Leaving their mother below, they ascended to the room 
occupied by Bonaparte. The interview was a long and painful 
one. The two petitioners, who were really ignorant of the nature 
of the accusation under which their mother labored, and to whom 
— on account of their youth — Bonaparte could not communicate 
it, besought him not to abandon his wife, nor to deprive two or- 
phans of the support Providence had sent them in place of their 
natural protector. To such an intercession Bonaparte could 
make no reply ; his just resentment melted away before these 
unhappy children, pleading for a mother of whose offence they 
were unconscious. Seeing that he was moved, they descended 
to where Josephine was lying prostrate, sobbing and heartbroken, 
at the foot of a stone stair-case. They took her up, conveyed 



352 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

her to Bonaparte's study and placed her in his arms. This was 
a decisive and resistless argument. The oflfended husband re- 
lented, and folded his repentant wife to his bosom. The recon- 
ciliation was complete. Josephine took the lesson to heart and 
thoroughly reformed her conduct. She became an altered wo- 
man from that day forward. It is pleasing to have arrived at the 
conclusion of this chronicle of error and dissipation. 

It was during the period which now followed — the first three 
years of the Consulate — that Josephine displayed those qualities 
of mind and heart which have endeared her to the world, and 
which have caused so many to forget, or to reject as calumnious 
accusations, the transgressions of her youth. She devoted herself 
with sincere purpose to rendering Napoleon's home happy and his 
palace imposing. She read to him in those fascinating tones which 
led him afterwards to say — "The first applause of the French peo- 
ple sounded to my ear sweet as the voice of Josephine." "With 
her diligent needle, she worked tapestry for his feet and scenic 
embroidery for the panels of his cabinet. She employed her re- 
tentive memory in his service, and he familiarly called her his 
" agenda," or memorandum. She resumed her neglected harp ; 
she cultivated and acclimated exotic flowers. She bent her efforts 
to surrounding the Consular throne with an atmosphere of ele- 
gance, dignity and refinement. She had indeed lost the power 
of fixing his wayward and capricious heart, as his constant infi- 
delities and his intrigues within the very gates of the Tuileries 
amply prove. But his estrangements were of short duration, and 
he always returned gladly to Josephine, sometimes to confess and 
sue for pardon, always to feel that his affection for her would 
outlive his fugitive attachments. She even interested herself in 
political affairs ; she hastened the return of many emigrant no- 
bles ; she mitigated the harshness of the tribunals, and obtained the 
reversal of decrees of confiscation. She begged for the life of the 
Duke d'Enghien. She advised Napoleon to be content with the 
Consulate, and to abandon all thought of an Empire and a crown. 



CHILDLESSNESS OF JOSEPHINE. 353 

Though hex- conduct was iu these respects irreproachable, she 
still committed numerous and serious errors. We have shown 
elsewhere how she sacrificed the happiness of her only daughter, 
in the furtherance of her domestic schemes. We have shown how 
Bonaparte was compelled to employ the services of Talleyrand 
and Bourrienne in settling her tradesmen's bills. We have 
shown how she continued to receive Madame Tallien, in spite of 
Bonaparte's prohibition. We have shown what intimate rela- 
tions she maintained with M'lle Lenormand, notwithstanding his 
opposition. She was often disobedient and refractory. She 
preferred prevarication, in case of discovery, to a frank confes- 
sion. " A marked feature in her character," said Napoleon at St. 
Helena, " was her constant system of denial. No matter at what 
moment, no matter what the question, her first impulse was a 
negative — and this was not exactly a falsehood, but rather a pre- 
paration of precaution and defense."^ 

As time advanced, the temper of Josephine was soured and 
her life embittered by her childless condition. Her jealousy and 
her exactions augmented, and long before the coronation, Bona- 
parte escaped from what he called "the subjection of a citizen 
husband," by occupying apartments distinct from those of his wife. 
The poor Empress, whenever for a night Napoleon resumed his 
allegiance, allowed her satisfaction to be seen by all the officers 
and domestics of the palace. "I rose late this morning," she 
would say, rubbing her hands with delight, " but then, you see, 
Bonaparte was with me !"^ 

The death, in 1807, of the eldest son of Hortense — Napoleon's 
heir adoptive^ — thoroughly alarmed Josephine ; her anxieties now 
became impending and threatening realities. " A son by Joseph- 
ine was essential," said Napoleon ; "it would have rendered me 
happy, not only as a political advantage, but as a domestic comfort. 
It would have tranquillized Josephine and put an end to her jea- 
lousy, which left me no repose ; for her jealousy was much more 

1 Las Cases, ii. 806. ^ Michiiud, Ixviii. 255. 

45 



354 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

political than seutimental. Josephine foresaw the future, and 
was alarmed at her sterility. She felt that a union is only com- 
plete when blessed by children ; and at the time of her marriage 
with me she was incapable of again becoming a mother. As her 
fortunes rose, her fears augmented ; she employed every resource 
of medicine, and often pretended to have derived benefit from it. 
When compelled to abandon all hope, she hinted at the feasibility 
of resorting to a political fraud — a substitution — and finally, openly 
proposed it." ^ 

So spoke Najjoleon at St. Helena. Bourrienne, in his me- 
moirs, throws doubt upon the statement. His ground of doubt, 
however, is nothing more than the belief that his close intimacy 
with Josephine would have led her to communicate this project 
to him, as she had done many others. Whatever the truth may 
have been, a report was prevalent in Paris, in 1809, that Joseph- 
ine was to assume as her own offspring, the child — if a boy — to 
which Madame Walewski, who had followed Napoleon to France 
from Warsaw, and for whom a sumptuous residence had been 
purchased in the Chauss^e d'Antin, was soon to give birth. A 
son was born of this lady to the Emperor, but he was not adopted 
by Josephine. He was created a count, by Napoleon, on the da}^ 
of his birth ; he received the name of Alexandre, though he has 
since been known under that of Colonna Walewski, as Louis 
Napoleon's Ambassador to the Court of St. James, and upon 
the retirement of M. Drouyn de Lhuys, in 1855, his Minister of 
Foreign Affairs. 

Madame Junot, in rehearsing the preliminaries of the divorce, 
uses the following language in refei'ence to this subject: "The 
Emperor had loved Josephine, but he loved her no longer. But 
what heart that has loved fails to retain a profound sentiment of 
friendship for the object of its passion ! Napoleon was deeply 
influenced by the sentiment which had firmly attached him to his 
wife, and who can tell what would have been the result of an 
explanation in which Josephine had proposed to adopt one of his 

1 Liis Cases, ii. 304. 



THE DIVORCE. 355 

natural children — both boys — Count "Walewski or Count L^on/ 
and his own flesh and blood ?" 

In October of the year 1809, Napoleon returned suddenly 
from Wagram, and the court was established at Tontainebleau. 
By the Emperor's orders, the private access from Josephine's 
rooms to his own was closed. They seldom met, a.nd when they 
did, they avoided each other's eyes. Their demeanor was con- 
strained, though they both endeavored to be composed and natu- 
ral. It was known to the whole palace that the divorce had been 
decided upon, and the manners of the officials bore witness to this 
knowledge. " Ah !" said Josephine, " what looks are those which 
courtiers suffer to fall upon a rej^udiated wife !" " Josephine !" 
said Napoleon, when the time for speaking the words now so 
memorable had arrived, "my excellent Josephine ! Thou know- 
est if I have loved thee ! To thee, to thee alone, do I owe the 
only moments of happiness which I have enjoyedin the world. 
Josephine, my destiny overmasters my will. My dearest affec- 
tions must be silent before the interests of France." "Say no 
more," returned Josephine, " I was prepared for this, but the 
blow is none the less mortal." She became unconscious, and, on 
recovering her senses, found that she had been conveyed to her 
chamber. The act of separation was read on the 16th of Decem- 
ber, in the grand salon of the Tuileries, in the presence of the 
Emperor, Josephine, her two children, all the members of the 
imperial family present at Paris, and the grand dignitaries of the 
empire. Josephine, who was simply dressed in white, was pale, 
but resigned. The tears coursed down her cheeks, as with trem- 
ulous voice she pronounced the oath of acceptance, and signed 

1 Of the birth of the former of these children we haye spolien. Count L6on was the son of a young lady by the 
name of E16onore, employed in the household of Madame Murat, as reader. He was born in 1804 or '5. The name 
of L6on was given to him, from the fact that it occurred both in the name of his father and in that of his mother. 
lie was made a count upon his birth, and a pension of 30,000 francs a year was settled upon M'lle E16onore. He 
has lived an unsettled life, and owing to a previous quarrel with the present Emperor, derived no benefit from the 
restoration of the Bonapartes in 1848. His resemblance to his father is very striking. As nearly as it is possible to 
ascertain, he is now interested in an ink manufactory at St. Denis, near Paris. Count Mon, born in 1805; Count 
Walewski, born in 1809 ; and the King of Rome, born in 1811, were Napoleon's only children. He never had a 
daughter, and never expressed a desire to have one. 



356 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

with unsteady hand the deed of divorce. She performed her part 
in this scene without precedent — one which in all probability will 
never have its parallel in the annals of the world — with a grace 
and a dignity which, as we have said, has disarmed history and 
seduced the judgment of posterity. 

Josephine survived this catastrophe but five years. Napoleon 
gave her the means of continuing, at her chateaux of Malmaison 
and Navarre, the regal state to which she had been accustomed. 
Though a large part of her resources were squandered in heed- 
less extravagance — for in her small palace no less than twenty- 
two dinner-tables were set every day, and twenty-one cords of 
wood burned^ — she devoted considerable sums to the improve- 
ment of her lands, to the amelioration of the soil, to the education 
of orphans and to the relief of distress. She was the benefactress 
of the poor and the sympathetic friend of the afflicted, as well 
now in her fallen, as before in her prosperous, estate. Six weeks 
after the entrance of the allies into Paris and the departure of 
Napoleon for Elba, she was taken seriously ill. The Czar Alex- 
ander was unremitting in his attentions to her, and to him, on the 
28th of June, her last words were addressed: "I shall die re- 
gretted ; I have always desired the happiness of France ; I did 
all in my power to contribute to it. I can say with truth that 
the first wife of Napoleon never caused a tear to flow." She lin- 
gered, though lost to consciousness, till the next morning, when 
her breath passed gently and painlessly away. 

Such, without extenuation, and certainly without malice, were 
the life and character of the Empress of the French, as we have 
sought briefly and impartially to sketch them. It is worth while 
to inquire the causes which have conspired to render the popular 
idea of her — at least in America — so erroneous and incomplete. 
One reason, doubtless, is this : English books, English newspapers 
and periodicals — which, up to the period of the divorce, had 
represented the Empress in her true colors, though they had 

1 Dacrest, 59. 



JOSEPHINE AND HER BIOGRAPHERS. 357 

certainly done so in a hostile spii'it — sought to gratify their hatred 
of Napoleon, upon the accomplishment of this event, by extrava- 
gant eulogies of the worth and merits of the lady he had repudi- 
ated. By esalting her character, they rendered the act of sepa- 
ration more odious and revolting. By representing him as a man 
repelling a woman possessed of all the domestic virtues, they en- 
listed against him every wife, every fireside in the kingdom. 
From that time to this, the embellishment and fanciful retouching 
of the character of Josephine, have been a part of the machinery 
employed in the denunciation and degradation of Napoleon. The 
American mind has, in this way, through the British press, been 
abused and misled. 

And this misapprehension has been perpetuated among us 
from another and a very diflferent cause. Josephine is in the 
United States a popular idol. The Americans are hero-worship- 
ers, and in a much stronger sense are they the worshipers of 
the beautiful, the oppressed and the virtuous of the gentler sex. 
Being without heroines in our own history, we have unreservedly 
bestowed our sympathies upon the amiable and unfortunate Em- 
press of the French. It is not too much to say that she holds 
altogether the first place, among the women of modern history, 
in the imagination of the American people. JSTow it is always an 
easier task to follow than to stem the current, and it is a more 
gracious duty to praise a woman than to condemn her. So the 
pens employed upon this subject have fallen in with the prevail- 
ing tenor of the English sources of information which they con- 
sult, though such a system compels the writer either to the pro- 
pagation of manifest untruth or to the exhibition of revolting 
ignorance. The biographies of Josephine to which the American 
public have access, are characterized by studied omissions or 
bold fabrications. It requires nerve to attack a settled prejudice 
or a cherished opinion, and it is ungallant to seek to divest, even 
in behalf of the truth, an amiable and an unfortunate woman of 
the romantic halo which has been thrown around her history. 



358 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Therefore it is that the public has been served with sentimental 
fictions in the place of harsh and disenchanting reahties. One 
would, nevertheless, suppose the American reader to be able to 
hear the truth, and to be above and beyond the subjection of 
hsteniug to a prepared literature and a distorted biography. He 
has certainly a right to insist that a subject belonging to the do- 
main of Gibbon be not handled in the manner of ^sop. He is 
of age and a citizen of the world ; he ought to be secure from 
the imposition of ingenious fables, disguised in the masquerade 
and the caricature of history.- 

In France, the name of Josephine is remembered with respect, 
and pronounced with benedictions. This is in spite of the immo- 
ralities of her early life, of which none of her countrymen are 
ignorant. The French have a way of thinking in these matters 
peculiar to themselves ; a woman's public character — her charac- 
ter as a sovereign, as a historical personage — is but little con- 
cerned or interested in the opinion held upon her private and do- 
mestic character. Talent, wit, beauty, sense, benevolence — the 
elements which win a people and create a name — are all indepen- 
dent of private virtue — a matter in France beyond the scope of 
the biographer's vision. But in America it is otherwise, and a 
woman's vii'tue is her first and highest renown. Josephine must 
be judged, in this country, by the standard that society has estab- 
lished among us. Up to the Revolution which made her hus- 
band Consul, her life was a series of gross departures from recti- 
tude ; her conduct was, in these respects, irreproachable, from the 
moment she discovered that in him were vested the power and 
the glory of France. She cannot have forgotten, when divorced 
from considerations of state policy in 1809, that she had stood 
within the same peril, in 1799, from misconduct of her own. 

We have chronicled Napoleon's divorce : we have arrived, 
therefore, at the period of his second marriage. Marie Louise, 
Archduchess of Austria, the eldest daughter of the Emperor Fran- 
cis I., and grand-niece of Marie Antoinette, was born in the year 



MARIE LOUISE. 359 

1791, at the imperial palace of Vienna. She was educated with 
great care, and was one of the most accomplished princesses in 
Europe at the time when ISTapoleon, released from Josephine, was 
seeking to ally himself with a lady of royal birth. In 1809, when 
he was besieging the Austrian capital, he was told that Marie 
Louise — whom he was then far from supposing would ever be his 
wife — was ill with the small-pox, and was unable to leave the 
city. His majesty forthwith ordered the palace to be spared. In 
1810, Marie Louise, now nineteen years old, possessed a majestic 
form, an imposing walk, and an elegant deportment ; her hair was 
blond ; her complexion fresh and florid ; her eyes were blue and 
deep ; her hands and feet were small and beautifully formed. 
Her smile was expressive, her conversation gracious and amiable, 
when she was in the society of those she loved, or with whom she 
was intimate ; but when surrounded with strange faces, and irked 
by the restraints of etiquette, she became reserved and distant. 
Her temper was mild, her mind cultivated ; her tastes were simjDle 
and her talents useful as well as agreeable. She spoke French 
with facility, though with a decided German accent. 

Napoleon's divorce rendered him a suitor at the palace doors 
of Europe, late in 1809. His first application was addressed to 
the sister of Alexander of Russia. The Czar would gladly have 
consented, but the Empress Dowager objected, and by the delays 
which she interposed, succeeded in exhausting Napoleon's pa- 
tience. His Majesty next caused advances to be made to the 
Austrian ambassador at Paris on the subject of an alliance with 
the Archduchess Marie Louise. The negotiations were zealously 
pushed, and the contract of marriage was signed at Paris on the 
7th of February, 1810, and at Tienna on the 16th. Marie Louise, 
who had never seen Napoleon except through the aid of a minia- 
ture, spoke of herself as a " victim sacrificed to the Minotaur :" 
but she soon yielded a dutiful obedience to the desires of her fa- 
mily. The marriage took place at Vienna on the 11th of March, 
her uncle, the Archduke Cliarles, standing proxy for Napoleon. 



360 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

She set out tlie next day with her owu household for Paris. 
The cavalcade consisted of eighty-three carriages and baggage- 
wagons, drawn by four hundred and fifty-five horses. At Braii- 
nau, on the Bavarian frontier, she exchanged her Austrian dress 
for one in the fashion of the French Empire ; all the members of 
her household bade her adieu, with the exception of Madame de 
Lajanski, her governess. Her French household, appointed by 
Kapoleon, entered upon its duties at this point : Madame Lannes, 
now Duchess de Montebello, being the lady of honor, and the 
Countess de Lucay the tire-woman. The jealousies of these 
ladies and their suite soon necessitated the dismissal of Madame 
de Lajanski, who took leave of her mistress at Munich. 

The 3^oung Empress travelled by short stages ; at each village 
where she rested for a night, a rural fete was ordered to amuse 
her. At Munich, she received her first letter from Napoleon, and 
every morning afterwards, during her fifteen days' journey, a page, 
arriving from Paris, brought her a fresh epistle. She entered the 
French territory at Strasburg, where she received, with the Em- 
peror's letter, the choicest green-house flowers and several brace 
of pheasants of Napoleon's shooting. The cortege advanced 
through Nancy, Bar-le-Duc, Chalons, Rheims, towards Soissons, 
where the first interview was to take place. But Napoleon was 
impatient, and mounting a horse, he set forward to meet the 
Archduchess. Rain was falling heavily, and before he joined 
the cavalcade he was wet to the skin. He descended from the 
saddle, opened the carriage door, and with one bound placed 
himself at the side of Marie Louise. Caroline Murat reassured 
her by introducing the intruder as " her brother, the Emperor." 
The postillions were ordered to post on at once to Compiegne, 
where they arrived late in the evening. There Napoleon imposed 
on Marie Louise a t@te-a-t§te which lasted through the night — 
a proceeding which the young bride resented at the time, and 
which, indeed, she never forgot.^ 

1 Capefigue, X. S2. 



HOUSEHOLD OF MARIE LOUISE. 361 

On the first of April the civil marriage took place at the Tuil- 
eries, and the next day the benediction of the Romish church was 
pronounced over the imperial pair by Cardinal Fesch. The train 
of the bride was borne by Queen Hortense, Queen Julie of Mad- 
rid, and Queen Catherine of Westphalia. Napoleon now escorted 
his Empress upon a visit to some of the great public works of the 
Empire, and points of interest in the northern departments. He 
showed her the naval docks of Cherbourg, and in her presence 
the first waters of the English channel were admitted within the 
gates. He conducted her to Brussels, where, amid the festivities 
of welcome, his sister Pauline put upon her the extraordinary 
insult we have elsewhere recorded. On their return to Paris, 
Napoleon devoted himself to the organization of her household, 
the principal members of which had already been chosen, and, as 
far as possible, from the faubourg St. Germain : for the old nobility, 
who had refused to serve the Creole Empress, would gladly accept 
place at the hands of an archduchess, who was the daughter as 
well as the wife of an Emperor. The etiquette to which she was 
subjected was far more rigid than that which had been imposed 
upon Josephine. A body guard of four, and afterwards of six 
ladies, bearing at various periods the titles of ' ' ladies to an- 
nounce," "first maids of honor," and " readers," followed all her 
movements and haunted her footsteps. They were more constant 
than her shadow, for that attendant deserted her when the sun 
set or when his light was veiled. They were never absent during 
the day, and one of them slept at night in a room adjoining hers, 
and with which her chamber communicated by an open door. The 
Emperor could not visit the Empress except through this ante- 
room. With the exception of the secretary and treasurer of Ma- 
rie Louise, no man could set foot across the threshold of her suite 
of apartments, without an order from the Emperor. One of her 
ladies invariably attended her when she took her lessons in music 
or drawing. They wrote aU her letters, either from her dictation 
or in accordance with a general outline furnished by her. 

46 



362 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

It was the Emperor's intention that no man whatever should 
be able to say that he had been, for a single instant, in t§te-a- 
tgte with her Majesty. On one occasion, one of the ladies of hon- 
or was severely reprimanded by Napoleon for remaining at the 
extremity of the room, while the court jeweller, M. Biennais, was 
showing to the Empress the secret springs of a writing-desk, and 
on another occasion, the same lady nearly lost her situation, for 
a similar reason, during M. Paer's lesson upon the piano. The 
gossips of the time went so far as to say that M. Leroy, the man- 
mantuamaker, was excluded from the palace for having dared 
to say to the Empress, in the confidence and intimacy of a mea- 
surement, that she had magnificent shoulders. It is quite impos- 
sible that M. Leroy was ever admitted to such privy and delicate 
relations with the imperial person. Measures were taken, garments 
were tried, and changes ordered, by the ladies of the household. 
M. Leroy had a lay-figure at his establishment, which presented 
an exact fac-simile of her Majesty's proportions, and the attire 
which fitted this manikin, usually adjusted itself with equal pre- 
cision to the living contour of the Empress of the French. 

On the 20th of March, 1811, Marie Louise gave birth, after a 
laborious and perilous travail, to a son, to whom was given the 
name of NapoMon-FranQois-Joseph, and upon whom was confer- 
red the title of King of Rome. A salvo of one hundred and one 
guns announced to the people of Paris that the child was of the 
male sex. Napoleon's subjects seemed to testify, by their expres- 
sions of satisfaction, their sympathy with the sovereign at this 
realization of his ardent and long cherished hopes. In less than 
a week, over two thousand odes and epistles in rhyme had been 
addressed to the happy father by the poets and poetasters of 
France. One of the sub-intendants of the Tuileries, M. de Que- 
vauvilliers, was instructed to distribute the sum of 100,000 francs 
among the obsequious authors of this loyal verse. 

On the 14th of April, 1813, Napoleon left Paris for the Russian 
campaign, making Marie Louise Regent of the Empire during 



TREACHERY OF MARIE LOUISE. 363 

his abseuce, and his brother Joseph, President of the Council of 
Regency. He received numerous letters from the Empress, in 
which she strongly urged the necessity of making peace, and 
spoke of the murmurs and clamor of the provinces against the 
continual drains of men and money. On the 23d of January, 
1814, she vras again made Regent, as Napoleon departed to op- 
pose the entrance of the allies into France. The Russians soon 
appeared in the forest of Vincennes, and Marie Louise, having re- 
ceived additional instructions to that effect from Napoleon, aban- 
doned Paris on the 29 th of March, with the King of Rome and 
the court, for Rambouillet. On the 1st of April she received or- 
ders from Napoleon to estabhsh herself at Blois. The allies had 
already entered Paris. Of this event Marie Louise was kept in 
ignorance till the 7th ; a portion of her advisers were then of the 
opinion that by returning at once to Paris, before the arrival of a 
prince of the house of Bourbon, she might yet secure the regency 
for herself and the crown for her son. But Marie Louise prefer- 
red to espouse the interests of her father, the Emperor of Austria, 
and the treaty of Fontainebleau, signed by Napoleon on the 11th, 
renounced for himself, for her and their son, the thrones of France 
and Italy. Marie Louise was to continue to bear the title of 
Empress, and upon her were conferred the duchies of Parma, 
Piacenza, and Guastalla. She returned to Austria through Swit- 
zerland and the Tyrol, which she visited with all the satisfaction 
of a midsummer tourist. 

When Madame Walewski, mother of the Count Alexandre, 
learned that Marie Louise had not followed Napoleon to Elba, 
she hastened there with her son, intending to remain in the qual- 
ity of a friend whose society might be agreeable to the prisoner. 
Napoleon, however, would not consent, being unwilling that the 
place which should have been filled by his wife, should be occu- 
pied in history by another. Madame Walewski stayed but three 
days, and then returned to Naples. The resemblance of her son 
to the Emperor caused, for a time, the circulation of a report that 



364 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Napoleon had been visited in Elba by the King of Rome and 
Marie Louise. 

On Napoleon's return from Elba, the next year, Marie Louise 
openly expressed her hope that the allies would be successful in 
the impending struggle. She allowed Madame de Montesquiou, 
the governess of the prince her son, to be dismissed, and a Ger- 
man woman to be appointed in her place. She willingly signed a 
paper renouncing all claim to the title of majesty, and to the throne 
of France. She was henceforth to be known as Archduchess of 
Austria and Duchess of Parma ; her son was to be called Heredi- 
tary Prince of Parma. The mother and son were soon defini- 
tively separated ; the former to retire to her Italian capital, the 
latter to remain at Vienna, and to be educated as a German prince, 
under the title of the Duke de Reichstadt. 

Marie Louise administered the government of her duchy with 
success and in a mild and liberal spirit. New codes were com- 
piled, and a wise system of civil and criminal justice was intro- 
duced. Many benevolent institutions were founded ; among them 
were a hospital for incurable patients, a poor-house, an asylum 
for the insane, and a school for midwives. The private life of the 
duchess was such as to obtain for her the scorn of her subjects 
and the reprobation of history ; no sovereign in Europe led a 
more infamous existence than the late Empress of the French. 
For years she maintained an adulterous connection with the Count 
de Neipperg, her chamberlain and prime minister. She gave birth 
to three children while Napoleon was yet alive, and translating 
the Wirtemberg name of Neipperg into Italian, gave them that 
of Montenuovo. Neipperg was secretly married to Marie Louise, 
on his death-bed, in 1829. His eldest daughter, by Marie Louise, 
married the Viscount de San Vitale ; his oldest son became an 
officer in an Austrian regiment ; the third child, a daughter, died 
early. 

The Duke de Reichstadt died of consumption, at Vienna, on 
the 22d of July, 1832. As he left no will, his mother inherited 



CHARACTER OF MARIE LOUISE. 365 

his large property — nearly a million of florins a year. After a 
reign of thirty years, Marie Louise died at Parma, in 1847, leav- 
ing an infamous memory and a fatal example. Her heart was 
placed in a chapel of the Church of the Madonna della Steccata ; 
her body was conveyed to Vienna. 

Napoleon lived at St. Helena in happy ignorance of the crimi- 
nal debaucheries of his wife and empress. He often spoke of her, 
and it was evident that he pictured ber as placidly subsisting on 
the memories of the past, and as supporting with dignity and 
resignation her fall from her high estate. On one occasion he 
said, " Be persuaded that if the Empress makes no effort to alle- 
viate my sufferings, it is because she is surrounded by spies who 
prevent her knowing how I am treated — for Marie Louise is the 
soul of virtue !" Napoleon certainly suffered enough upon his 
rocky fastness, to be spared the humiliating and afflicting knowl- 
edge that his wife was the paramour of a mutilated and disfigured 
officer of her household. His lot was less deplorable than it has 
been represented ; for if he was harassed by captivity and unworthy 
treatment, he was happy in the unconsciousness of his wife's dis- 
grace, and of the existence of the nameless children to which she 
had given birth. 

The French have effaced the name of Marie Louise from their 
annals, as far as it is possible for a people to forget history and 
to renounce the past. Josephine was the first Empress of the 
French ; Eugenie is the second. 



CHAPTER XIVIII. 

Napoleon's Manners towards Women — Grace IngersoU, the Belle of New Haven — Her Marriage 
and Transfer to the Court of the Tuileries — Her Presentation to Napoleon — His Amiable 
Speech — Death of Grace IngersoU — Her Two Daughters — Madame de Chevreuse — Her Epi- 
grams and Smart Speeches — Her Persecution by Napoleon — Her Exile and Death — The Jour- 
ney to Cythera — Napoleon appointed Doorkeeper — Madame Charpeutier — A Scene in the 
Gallery of Diana — Madame Foures — Her Connection with Napoleon — Her Divorce and 
Second Marriage — Napoleon's Estimate of Women — His Opinions upon Love — " How many 
Children have you ?" — Perpetual Vows — Madame Eegnault de St. Jean d'Angely — Napoleon's 
Speech to her — Her Eeply — Napoleon expresses Regret at St. Helena. 

WB have been compelled somewhat to anticipate the promised 
details upon the estimate placed by Napoleon upon women, 
and the harsh treatment to which he often subjected them. Chro- 
nological propriety and other considerations have forced us to 
narrate at intervals the exile of Mesdames R^camier and de Stael, 
the repulse from the palace of Madame Tallien, and the repudia- 
tion of Josephine. These, however, were ladies whose persecu- 
tion was due to public and political motives. It is our purpose 
now to speak of the private relations of Napoleon with the ladies 
of his court ; to describe his manners towards them, and his conver- 
sation with them ; to state his opinion upon the social mission and 
the domestic duties of women, and to illustrate these various points 
by authentic and historical examples. This will call upon us to 
introduce into the dazzling circle of the Tuileries during the most 
brilliant period of the Empire, one of our own fair countrywo- 
men, suddenly transplanted there from her home in Connecticut. 
The episode of her translation to Napoleon's imperial court 
we quote from one who knew her, copying from the proof-sheets 




C3"^S^^^V"'"""**^ 



Drawn byJ-Chainpagnc 



©MACE IM(&Eai©I.]L 



GRACE INGERSOLL. 367 

of a forthcoming work.^ The author thus narrates the prominent 
incidents of her Hfe : 

" Jonathan IngersoU, of New Haven, had a large family — 
sons and daughters : the names of the former are honorably re- 
corded in the official annals of their native State— nay, of the 
United States. The daughters were distinguished for personal 
attractions and refined accomplishments. One of them claims a 
special notice — Grace Ingersoll :* how beautiful the name, how 
suggestive of what she was in mind, in person, in character ! I 
saw her once — but once, and I was then a child — yet her image 
is as distinct as if I had seen her yesterday. 

" In my boyhood, these New Haven IngersoUs came to Ridge- 
field occasionally, especially in summer, to visit their relations 
there. They all seemed to me like superior beings, especially 
Mrs. Ingersoll, who was fair and forty about those days. On a 
certain occasion, Grace, who was a school companion of my elder 
sister, came to our house. I imagine she did not see or notice 
me. Certainly she did not discover in the shy boy in the corner 
her future biographer. She was tall and slender, yet fully 
rounded, with rich, dark hair, and large Spanish eyes — now seem- 
ing blue, and now black, and changing with the objects on which 
she looked, or the play of emotions within her breast. In com- 
plexion she was a brunette, yet with a melting glow in her cheek, 
as if she had stolen from the sun the generous hues which are re- 
served for the finest of fruit and flowers. Her beauty was in fact 
so striking — at once ,so superb and so conciliating — that I was 
both awed and fascinated by her. Wherever she went I followed, 
though keeping at a distance, and never losing sight of her. She 
spent the afternoon at our house, and then departed, and I saw 
her no more. 

" It was not long after this that a Frenchman by the name 
of GreUet, who had come to the United States on some important 

1 ReeoUections of a Lifetime, by S G-. Goodrich. 

* The portrait of Grace Ingersoll, upon the opposite page, is from an original sketch by Sully, now in the 
possession of Hon. Ralph I. Ingersoll, of New Haven. 



368 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

commercial affairs, chanced to be at New Haven, and saw Grace 
IngersoU, whom he had already met at New York. Such beauty 
as that of the New Haven belle is rare in any country ; it is never 
indigenous in France. Even if such could be born there, the im- 
perious force of conventional manners would have stamped itself 
upon her, and made her a fashionable lady, at the expense of that 
Bve-like beauty and simplicity which characterized her. It is 
not astonishing, then, that the stranger — accustomed as he was 
to all the beauty of French fashionable life — should still have 
been smitten with this new and startling type of female loveli- 
ness. 

"From the first view of Miss IngersoU, M. Grellet was a 
doomed man. Familiar with the brilliant court of the Parisian 
capital, he might have passed by unharmed, even by one as fair 
as our heroine, had it not been for that simplicity, that Puritan- 
ism of look and manner, which belonged to the social climate in 
which she was brought up — so strongly in contrast to the pre- 
scribed pattern graces of a French lady. He came, he saw, he 
was conquered. Being made captive, he had no other way than 
to capitulate. He was a man of good family, a fine scholar and 
a finished gentleman. He made due and honorable proposals, 
and was accepted — though on the part of the parents with many 
misgivings. Marriage ensued, and the happy pair departed for 
France. 

" This took place in 1806. M. Grellet held a high social po- 
sition, and on his arrival at Paris, it was a matter of propriety 
that his bride should be presented at court. Napoleon was then 
in the full flush of his imperial glory. It must have been with 
some palpitations of heart that the New Haven girl — scarcely 
turned of eighteen years, and new to the great world — prepared 
to be introduced to the glittering circle of the Tuileries, and 
under the eye of the Emperor himself. As she was presented to 
him in the midst of a dazzling throng blazing with orders and 
diamonds, she was a little agitated, and her foot was entangled 



MADAME GRELLET. 369 

for a moment in her long train — then an indispensable part of 
the court costume. Napoleon, who, with all his greatness, never 
rose to the dignity of a gentleman, said in her hearing, "Voila de 
la gaucherie am^ricaine !" American awkwardness ! Perhaps a 
certain tinge of political bitterness mingled in the speech, for 
Jerome had been seduced into marriage by the beauty of an 
American lady, greatly to the chagrin of his aspiring and unprin- 
cipled brother. At all events, though he saw the blush his rude- 
ness had created, a malicious smile played upon his lips, indica- 
tive of that contempt of the feelings of women, which was one of 
his characteristics. 

"Madame Grellet, however, survived the shock of this dis- 
courtesy which signalized her entry into fashionable life. She 
soon became a celebrity in the court circles, and always main- 
tained preeminence, alike for beauty of person, grace of manners 
and dehcacy and dignity of character. More than once she had 
her revenge upon the Emperor, when, in the centre of an admir- 
ing circle, he, with others, p%id homage to her fascinations. Yet 
this transplantation of the fair Puritan, even to the Paradise of 
fashion, was not healthful. 

" M. Grellet became one of Bonaparte's receivers-general, 
and took up his residence in the department of the Dordogne — 
though spending the winters in Paris. Upon the fall of Napo- 
leon, he lost his office, but was reappointed during the Hundred 
Days, only to lose it again upon the final restoration of Louis 
XVIII. The shadows now gathered thick and dark around him. 
His wife, having taken a violent cold, was attacked with pleurisy, 
which resulted in a gradual dechne. Gently, but surely, her life 
faded away. Death ever loves a shining mark, and at the early 
age of five and twenty she descended to the^ tomb. With two 
charming daughters — the remembrances of his love and his afflic- 
tion — M. Grellet returned to the south of France, and in the 
course of years, he too was numbered with the dead." 

Such is, in part, the story of our fair countrywoman. The 
47 



370 THE COUKT OF NAPOLEON. 

two daughters of Madame Grellet are still living in. the south 
of France. One is married and has children around her ; the 
other is in a convent, and has taken perpetual vows. "How 
strange, how affecting," continues the author we have quoted, 
"are the vicissitudes of life, as we read them in the intimate 
personal chronicles of homes and hearts ! The immediate grand- 
children of the Puritan minister of Ridgefield — the one a mother, 
blending her name, her lineage and her language in the annals 
of a foreign land ; the other a devotee, seeking in the seclusion 
of her cell, and perhaps not altogether in vain, that peace which 
the world cannot give ! What romance is more deeply and touch- 
ingly tinted than this simple page of family history!" 

From the remark made by the Emperor on the occasion of 
Madame Grellet's presentation, the reader will see that sympathy 
with women, or at least the habit of expressing sympathy at a 
trying moment, was not one of his characteristics. It would be 
easy to adduce many similar instances. The narrative which 
follows will show him to be incapable of even forgetting or 
forgiving an epigram which had fallen from the lips of a sarcastic 
beauty. 

M'lle Ermesinde de Narbonne became Madame de Chevreuse, 
in 1798, upon her marriage with the son of the Duke de Luynes 
and de Chevreuse. Her father-in-law was the representative of 
a family of immense wealth and of high ancestral pride. In 1804, 
she was remarkable as having obtained the reputation of being 
the most thoroughly elegant and accomplished woman in Paris, 
without possessing any of the elements of beauty. Her hair was 
reddish, if not red ; her features were irregular, and in form she 
was thin and angular. But her manners were so charming, and 
yet so dignified, her movements were so graceful, and her asser- 
tion of her proud birth-right was so amiable, that during her 
short and brilliant career at the court, she was one of its most 
lofty and dazzling ornaments. 

During the formation of the imperial household by Napoleon, 



MADAME DE CHEVREUSE. 371 

a parchment signed by the Emperor was placed in her hands : it 
was her appointment as lady of honor to the Empress Josephine. 
" I refuse," she said, after she had read it. " But think of what 
may be the result," interposed her husband and her father-in-law. 
"It is useless," she returned, "to repeat what I have already 
said a thousand times : I hate and despise the imperial court ! 
After that, you can hardly desire me to form part of it." But 
Napoleon had given this haughty family to understand that a 
refusal on the part of Madame de Chevreuse might provoke re- 
prisals which would endanger their fortune ; to save the estate, 
therefore, she assumed the distasteful service. Her conduct at 
court was that of a frondeuse, a malcontent; her epigrams upon 
the new regime circulated through Paris and the departments. 
She would not deign to appropriate to her own purposes her sa- 
lary as lady of honor. She made a point of giving the whole 
sum, twelve thousand francs a year, conspicuously and contempt- 
uously, to the poor. 

Napoleon was wounded by the smart sallies and the disaffec- 
tion of Madame de Chevreuse ; and one night, in the midst of a 
brilliant throng at the Tuileries, he said aloud to her: "Dear 
me! How red your hair is!" "Perhaps it is, sire," she retorted, 
" but this is the first time a man ever told me so !" The Count 
de Survilliers, one of the authors of "Les Erreurs de Bourrienne," 
says upon this subject: "This was an indirect compliment to 
Madame de Chevreuse, but she did not so understand it. She 
should have thought that the Emperor had eyes as well as other 
people, and that her beautiful blond hair was no redder to him 
than to any one else. With more wit, she would have modestly 
blushed, and this blush would have told her appreciation of the 
indirect compliment, and her gratification at the intention, in 
which a woman is rarely deceived ; but Madame de Chevreuse 
was prejudiced and hostile."^ 

It is certainly worth remembering that the apologists of 

1 Eri-eurs de Bourrienne, i. 236. 



372 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Napoleon reproach a lady of the court for not blushing with de- 
light at hearing an Emperor call her blond locks red. The inti- 
mation, too, that a person may blush to order, is, to say the least, 
singular. It was said, at the time, in reference to this incident, 
that it would be quite as easy to sneeze at the word of command, 
to dream dreams at will, to sleep voluntarily, to wake appro- 
priately and to expire opportunely. 

By thus persecuting the sprightly lady of honor, Napoleon 
only succeeded in rendering her interesting, and in drawing upon 
himself the blame of the palace. He next sought his revenge by 
attempting to fasten a stain upon a pure and guileless life. He 
sent her superb anonymous presents, flowers, rare plants ; but 
she soon put an end to this gallant persecution by ordering her 
servants to repulse the imperial offerings from her door. The 
Emperor now abandoned his system of mysterious devotion for 
one of open and undisguised attention. One day at the close of 
a hunt, he ordered one of the whippers-in to present, in his name, 
the stag's severed foot to Madame de Chevreuse. The courtiers 
exchanged significant glances ; the lady of honor saw the impend- 
ing danger. She crossed the circular space enclosed by the hunts- 
men, and presenting the foot to Josephine, said, "The man has 
made a mistake, madame : he probably does not know you. I 
thus repair his error." Her pale cheeks were flushed with indig- 
nation as she repelled the insult of his Majesty. 

Napoleon soon came to fear Madame de Chevreuse, and neces- 
sarily to dislike her. She speedily drew upon herself the rigors 
of his wrath by two speeches, one of which was a mere extrava- 
gant bravado, the other a noble and dignified reproof. She came 
one night to the Tuileries, literally blazing with diamonds. Some 
one asked her if they were all genuine, or, as is sometimes the case, 
if they were mingled with paste. ' ' Dear me ! I hardly know, " she 
replied, " but even if they were all false, they would be quite good 
enough to come here with." Any other sovereign but Napoleon 
would have laughed at the malice of this sally, but his incensed 



NAPOLEON'S GALLANTEY AT DUNKIRK. 373 

Majesty indited a decree of exile. This he withheld for a time, 
but signed it soon afterwards under the following circumstances : 
In 1808, his Spanish campaign deprived Charles IV. and his queen 
of their crowns, and the dethroned sovereigns were compelled to 
accept the palace of Oompi^gne in France as their residence in 
exile. Napoleon drew up the list of ladies who were to wait 
upon the queen. Upon this list he placed the name of Madame 
de Chevreuse first. "Tell his Majestj^I decline," she said ; " there 
are no jailers in my family !" The heavy hand of Kapoleon fell 
upon Madame de Chevreuse as it had fallen upon Madame R^ca- 
mier. She was banished from Paris, and warned not to return 
within the distance of fifty leagues. This was a cruel and indeed 
fatal blow for the young duchess, who was already suffering from 
the first attacks of consumption. Her exile and her martyrdom 
hastened and aggravated her disease. She led an errant life, 
wandering from Tours to Rouen, and from Rouen to Caen. Jo- 
sephine frequently interceded with Napoleon in her behalf; his 
invariable reply was, "No, I say, no! I'll have no impertinent 
spoiled children here !" Madame de Chevreuse died at Lyons 
eaiiy in the year 1813. Napoleon's querulous and unmanly per- 
secution had killed her in the maturity of her beauty and the 
prime of her years. 

Napoleon was not destitute of gallantry, however, and when 
in the humor, could converse amiably, and even condescend to 
agreeable trifling, with ladies whose attractions rendered it worth 
his while. An incident may be mentioned in this connection, 
which took place at Boulogne, in 1803, during the visit of the 
First Consul to the fleet. A lady from Dunkirk, noted for her 
elegance, wit and beauty, was turning the heads of the grand per- 
sonages assembled there. General Soult and Joseph Bonaparte 
were her acknowledged favorites, and of the two, the latter was 
in reality and in secret, the successful suitor. The lady gave nu- 
merous evening parties, and one of them Bonaparte determined 
to attend, with a view to penetrate, if possible, his brother's 



374 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

mystery. He assumed citizen's costume, and wore a wig and spec- 
tacles. General Bertrand, similarly disguised, accompanied him, 
and the two caused themselves to be announced as commissaries 
of war. They entered unrecognized, the company being absorbed 
over the bouillotte table. Bonaparte was soon satisfied that in- 
telligence existed between Joseph and his hostess, and was pre- 
paring to depart, when she retained him in order to play at for- 
feits. He was obliged to give a pledge, and being unfortunately 
without either handkerchief or other small article, was obliged to 
pawn a piece of paper upon which he had prepared a list of colo- 
nels. He stipulated that it should remain unopened. Upon the 
delivery of the sentences, it was decreed that Bonaparte should 
enact the part of door-keeper, while Joseph and the lady from 
Dunkirk " made the journey to Cythera." 

This game, which is still in vogue in certain circles of French 
society, consists of the following features : Any two persons, a lady 
and gentleman, whose relations are supposed to be confidential, 
or whose pairing is not believed to be distasteful to either, may 
be sent upon this journey in an adjoining room, while the door- 
keeper guards the entrance. The imprisoned parties, whose time 
is short, are expected to make such hurried use of it as their in- 
timacy may authorize, or their inclinations may suggest. The 
door-keeper is responsible for the entire seclusion of the inter- 
view. 

Bonaparte performed this duty with as good a grace as could 
be expected, for the character he sustained is usually given to 
jealous husbands and to persons whom the company wishes to 
quiz or to tease. He soon after left, and entering the room of a 
carpenter who inhabited the ground floor, wrote a note which he 
at once sent to the fair occupant of the story above. This note 
ran as follows : 

"I thank you, madame, for the amiable welcome you have 
extended to me this evening. Should you ever visit me in my 
tent, I will again enact the door-keeper, if such be your pleasure ; 



MADAME FOURfiS. 375 

but I will not leave to others the duty of accompanying you in 
your journey to Cythera. — Bonaparte." 

This adventure was soon noised abroad, and the public made 
mei'ry over the ludicrous sentinel duty which had been imposed 
upon the head of the state.' 

At the ball given at the Tuileries in 1806, in honor of the 
marriage of the Princess Stephanie de Bade, Napoleon accosted 
a lady whom he did not recognize, thus: "Who are you, ma- 
dame?" "Sire, I am Madame Charpentier." "The wife of 
General Charpentier?" "Yes, sire." "Dear me, how ill you 
look in that dress ! You are very much changed !" With these 
words, the courteous monarch passed on. In the Gallery of 
Diana, a lady with trembling hand presented him a petition. 
This person was one who had received Napoleon into her house 
when he was a lieutenant of artillery, and found it difficult to 
live upon his meagre salary ; she persuaded him that to occupy 
one of her vacant rooms would be to oblige her by airing the fur- 
niture, and that to eat at her table would oblige her still more, 
by occupying her solitude. She rendered him long and impor- 
tant services at a moment when he most needed assistance. 
Being subsequently totally ruined, she bethought herself of ap- 
plying to the lieutenant whom she had befriended. She handed 
her petition to Napoleon as he advanced along the Gallery of 
Diana. The Emperor looked at her, changed color and said in a 
loud and menacing tone, "By what chance come you here?" 
The unfortunate woman fell fainting upon the floor, and was 
borne away from the palace. The next day the Emperor settled 
upon her an annual pension of twelve hundred francs, in atone- 
ment for his harshness and in acquittal of his obligation.^ 

Bonaparte's treatment of Madame Four^s, whom he had once 
called by the affectionate sobriquet of Bellilotte, and whom the 
public styled the Eastern Queen, may be briefly referred to here. 
This lady followed her husband, who was attached to Bonaparte's 

1 Constant, ii. 107. "- Ducrest, 54 



376 THE COUKT OF NAPOLEON. 

Egyptian army, to Cairo. Here an intrigue was set on foot, and 
Foures was sent to France with a package of worthless duplicate 
dispatches. He embarked at Alexandria, was captured by the 
English squadron under Commodore Hood, and landed again on 
the Egyptian coast. He hastened back to Cairo, where he found 
his home abandoned and his name dishonored. His wife was oc- 
cupying the quarters of the General-in-chief — the palace of Elfy- 
Bey. His grief and consternation were poignant ; and his wife, to 
escape his persecutions and importunities, obtained a species of 
mihtary divorce from the commissary-general of the army. 

Bonaparte's attachment to Madame Foures seems to have 
been profound and sincere. He wore constantly upon his person 
a lock of her hair, in exchange for which he had given her his 
portrait. During his absence in Syria, he wrote her the most 
affectionate letters, and in one of them is said to have promised 
to obtain a divorce from Josephine and marry her, if she made 
him a father.^ This tenderness endured till his dreams of ambi- 
tion compelled him to sacrifice her. 

Bellilotte arrived at Paris from Egypt several weeks after 
Bonaparte ; she found him reconciled to Josephine, and deeply 
involved in cares of state, for he had become in the meantime 
First Consul. He did not see her ; Duroc, however, has de- 
clared of his personal knowledge, that the separation cost Napo- 
leon a severe internal struggle. Josephine, who was aware of 
the whole intrigue, seasoned her jealous quarrels with constant 
references to her history, and made frequent and bitter use of 
her name. Napoleon instructed Duroc to obtain a lodging for 
her at Belleville, just without the walls. She sometimes attend- 
ed the performances of Talma at the Com^die Francaise, where 
she excited the utmost interest and curiosity. She was then 
about twenty-three years of age, but with the fresh, florid com- 
plexion of a girl of sixteen. Her hair, which was flaxen, fell in 
natural ringlets about her neck ; she sat wrapped in a white 

I Hiat. Scientiflque et Militaire de I'Ex. en Egypte, iv. 76. 



NAPOLEON'S OPINION OF WOMEN. 377 

Cashmere shawl, with an embroidered border. It was at this 
period that the pubHc gave her the title of the Eastern Queen. 

Her husband soon returned from Egypt, and upon the ex- 
piration of the period in which the military divorce must be 
confirmed or become void, reclaimed her. She resisted, and 
Napoleon was informed of the angry disputes which followed. 
He ordered her, though legally the wife of Four^s, to marry 
again, and promised a distant consulate as an inducement to the 
future husband. One M. Ramchouppe presented himself, and with 
disgust and shame, the unhappy woman resigned herself to her 
fate.^ She left France, and was absent many years. She did not 
return from Brazil — the scene of her husband's duties — until 
after Napoleon's death, when the public had naturally lost all 
interest in her. 

"Bonaparte's opinion of women," says Alison, "was very 
low ; he never could be persuaded to converse with them seri- 
ously on any subject, or regard them as anything but playthings 
or objects of pleasure ; he felt, with Bacon, their value to young 
men as mistresses, to old as nurses ; but utterly denied their 
utility even to middle life as companions. It was his favoi'ite 
opinion that the Orientals understood much better how to dispose 
of the female sex than the Europeans ; that the harem was the 
true scene both of their respectability and their usefulness ; and 
that if it were not for the object of having a family, no man of 
sense would ever marry. His infidelities were, nevertheless, fre- 
quent ; but none of his fancies ever influenced his conduct or 
affected his judgment, and they were generally of very short du- 
ration. There was a brusquerie and precipitation in his manner 
towards women, both in public and private, which his greatest 
admirers admit to have been repugnant to every feeling of female 
delicacy. He had hardly any conversation to address to them in 
the salons of St. Cloud. He never got the better, as hardly any 
one ever does, of the want of the society of elegant women early 

1 d-Abr. i. 348. 

48 



378 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

in life ; and on the occasion of his marriage with Marie Louise, 
in 1810, he accosted her rather as a grisette who had been won 
by a three weeks' fidelity, than the daughter of the Caesars who 
had been the prize of a hundred victories."^ 

" Love," said JSTapoleon at St. Helena, " is the occupation of 
an idle man, the amusement of a busy one, and the shipwreck 
of a soTereign."^ 

The Duke de Vicence, referring to the same subject, says : 
"The Emperor, who knew men so well, was ignorant of women. 
He had not lived with them and did not understand them ; he dis- 
dained so futile a study. His sensations, entirely physical in re- 
gard to them, admitted no influence from liveHness, intelligence, 
or talents ; he had an aversion to their being learned or celebra- 
ted, or emerging from their ordinary domestic sphere. He placed 
them in the social order at the lowest scale, and never could ad- 
mit that they should have any influence over the will. A woman 
was in his eyes an agreeable piece of creation, a pretty plaything, 
an amusing pastime, but nothing more. 'Love,' said he, 'is a 
foolish preoccupation, be assured of that.' " ^ 

"His heart," says Channing, "among all its wild beatings, 
never had one throb of disinterested love Not even wo- 
man's loveliness and the dignity of a queen could give shelter 
from his contumely."* 

Napoleon often startled women by the abrupt inquiry, "How 
many children have you ?" This was not a chance question, but 
one demanding a mathematical, statistical reply. He regarded 
women as the cause of a grand result — the principle of popula- 
tion. He interrogated the maternal heart to learn how many 
conscripts it could yield.^ Mothers furnished him his "chair a 
canon ;" they were responsible for the supplies of food for pow- 
der. Therefore he organized the lyceums and colleges for the 
instruction of boys upon a military footing ; ^ they mustered for 

1 Europe, ix. 161. 3 Caulainoourt, i. 158. 5 Capefigue, ii. 241. 

2 Las Cases, ii. 15. •• Napoleon, S4r48. « M4m. d'un Bourgeois, i. 65. 



THE PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION. 379 

recitation or dispersed for recess to the beat of the drum ; they 
underwent, from the tenderest infancy, the discipline of the uni- 
form. He materialized education and converted schools into bar- 
racks.^ His famous reply to Madame de Stael — which we have 
already recorded — to the effect that the greatest woman was she 
who had the greatest number of children, was not a mere casual, 
flippant repartee, but the felicitous expression of his deliberate 
opinion.^ 

He expressed the same idea in another form, when speaking 
to Madame Campan of perpetual vows. When he estabhshed 
the Sisters of Charity, he was importuned to allow the veil for 
life ; this he refused. "Tastes may change," he said, " and there 
is no good reason for depriving society of women who may after- 
wards be useful. Convents attack the principle of population at 
its very root. The loss, to a state, can hardly be calculated, re- 
sulting from ten thousand women confined in the cloister. War is 
less injurious, because the number of males is at least one twenty- 
fifth greater than that of females. I would permit women of fifty 
to take perpetual vows, for then their task is done."* 

The instances and opinions we have cited, amply sufl&ce to 
show the esteem in which Napoleon held women, and the limits 
he imposed upon their mission and their duties. We have to 
mention one more example, however, as the scene was one of the 
most remarkable ever witnessed in a palace, and as the lady ad- 
dressed by the Emperor made a reply at once so spirited and so 
graceful, that the audience of imperial courtiers involuntarily 
murmured their approbation. The scene of the incident was the 
chateau of Neuilly, the residence of Caroline Murat, then the 
Grand Duchess of Berg. "Every one knows," says Madame 
Junot, "the manner in which Napoleon's court circle was formed ; 
a triple row of ladies, behind whom were ranged a triple row of 
gentlemen, all listening with as much curiosity as the females to 
hear the speeches, polite or impolite, which the Emperor should 

1 Lam. Rest. i. 402. 2 Las Cases, v. 242. 3 Journal de Miue. Cumpan, IS. 



380 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

address to them. It is now quite easy to speak as we please 
upon this subject, and to affect courage when the battle is over, 
but I will affirm that when, on a court-day, the Emperor ap- 
peared at the door which is in the angle of the throne room, with 
a cloudy brow, every one was awed ; first the ladies, then the 
gentlemen, and last, but not least, that group assembled in the 
deep window to the left — that group generally complete, with 
the single exception of England, covered with jewels and orders 
of chivalry, and trembling before the little man who entered with 
a quick step, dressed simply in the uniform of a colonel of chas- 
seurs. I have known women — and I have a right to place my- 
self among the number — who preserved in his presence a dignity 
of manner which pleased him far better than silly fear, or base 
flattery. When he made an unpleasant speech to a lady, and it 
was received with respect and spirit, he never returned to the 
charge. For myself, in cases where I have offended him, he has 
often passed me at two or three successive court circles without 
speaking, but he never said a word which could wound my feel- 
ings or my proper susceptibilities. I have heard him do so by 
others, however, and once in particular by Madame Regnault de 
St. Jean d'Angely." 

Madame Regnault was the wife of the Secretary of State for 
the Imperial family — a man distinguished for his devotion and 
fidelity to Napoleon throughout the Consulate and Empire, as 
well as during his misfortunes. She was one of the most beau- 
tiful women of the court, and we have already spoken of her as 
recalling the antique Niobe by her style of face and expression. 
Her head was a perfect Greek model in its proportions and in 
the exquisite outhne of the profile. Her hair was deep black, 
and curled in natural ringlets. Her teeth were white and regu- 
lar. Her figure was so symmetrical that she never had recourse 
to the aid of corsets, even when she wore a court dress. She 
was intelligent, witty, and modest. Her portrait was painted by 
Gerard, and may be found in his engraved gallery of Historical 




ilT' SE^MAUILT mm S>AimT JIAW l)'AIi©lEJL¥. 



MADAME KEGNAULT. 381 

Portraits. It lias also been engraved separately and is usually 
sold, in this form, »nder the title of Sappho.* 

Madame Reguault was one of the many women who had 
incurred Napoleon's dislike. He never treated her with even or- 
dinary politeness, without, however, alleging any motive for his 
conduct, and probably conscious of no reasonable ground of aver- 
sion. On the evening in question, he was out of humor, and made 
his customary round of the company with evident distaste. He 
stopped opposite Madame Regnault to examine her toilet. This 
consisted of a simple dress of white crape, trimmed with alter- 
nate tufts of pink and white roses. The glossy black of her 
hair was relieved by white roses deeply imbedded in its tresses. 
Her toilet was considered faultless — for the events of the , night 
caused it to be critically examined and canvassed. As his Ma- 
jesty prepared to address her, she presented as perfect an em- 
bodiment of youth, beauty and taste, as was to be found in the 
court. Napoleon was all the more incensed at her irreproach- 
able appearance. Justice was the last feature which character- 
ized his criticisms upon ladies, and the remark which he now 
made was certainly the last which a regard to truth and the most 
ordinary courtesy would have suggested to him. With a bitter 
smile, he said in a deep, sonorous voice : 

"Do you know, Madame Regnault, that you are looking 
much older to-night?" 

These words were uttered in the hearing of several hundred 
persons, half of whom were women, doubtless gratified at the 
beauty's humiliation. She hesitated for a moment, as if framing 
her reply. At last she said with a smile, and in a voice sufficiently 
firm for all who heard the attack to hear the rejoinder : 

"What your Majesty has done me the honor to observe, 
might have been painful to hear, had I reached an age when 
youth is regretted." 

* The original picture is now in possession of the present Regnault de St. Jean d'Angely, the commander of 
the Imperial Guard. A copy has been placed at the Ili.-itorical G-allery of Versailles, and it is from this that the 
portrait of Madame Regnault upon the opposite page is taken. 



382 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

The Niobe of the court was hardly twenty-eight years old. 
A murmur of approbation ran through the room, which not 
even the presence of Napoleon could repress. The Emperor 
afterwards regretted his treatment of Madame Regnault. He 
was told at St. Helena, in 1816, that she had manifested con- 
stant attachment to him during his confinement at, and upon 
his return from, Elba. "Is it possible?" he exclaimed, with 
marked satisfaction. "Poor lady! How badly I treated her! 
Well, this compensates for the ingratitude of the renegades for 
whom I did so much ! How true it is, that we can neither 
judge of the heart nor the sentiments, until they have been 
exposed to trial !" ^ 

1 Las Oases, iv. Part vii. 111. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

The Drama under Napoleon— Imperial Patronage of Actors— The Decree of Moscow— Epigrams 
upon this Decree— Talma— His Education and early Tastes— His First Appearance— Charles 
IS. — Talma a Girondin — Talma and Napoleon— Character of Talma's Genius— Criticisms of 

the Emperor — Talma at Erfurth — His Letter to John Kemble — His two Marriages His 

Death — Lafon— Fleury — St. Prix— M'lle Mars— Character of her Talent — The Mysterious 
Eing— Political Constancy of M'lle Mars— M'lle Duchesnois — M'lle Georges— Circumstances 
attending her Birth — Her Infant Performances — Her First Appearance — Stage Riots — M'lle 
Georges and Lucien Bonaparte — M'lle Georges and Napoleon — She Visits St. Petersburg, 
Stockholm and Dresden — The Eomantic School of Modern Dramatic Literature. 

THE dramatic literature of the Empire suffered from the re- 
pressive system to which the mind of the nation was sub- 
jected, as well as general literature, whose condition during this 
period has already been described. Though the production of 
works intended for the stage was thus limited in number and in- 
ferior in quality, the scenic interpretation of the classic repertory 
was, under Napoleon, the most briUiant and complete in French 
histrionic annals. The performers gathered at the Comedie Fran- 
9aise, and cooperating in the representation of the tragedies of 
Racine, Corneille, Yoltaire, and of the comedies of Moli^re, Beau- 
marchais, Marivaux, formed a constellation of talent whose equal 
is not presented by any previous or by any subsequent epoch. 
Napoleon, finding the stage thus efficient at his accession, be- 
stowed upon it a bountiful and enlightened patronage. He paid 
20,000 francs a year for his box at the Comedie. He gave Tahna 
10,000 francs for a few performances at the Congress of Erfurth ; 
he gave 10,000 to M'lle Mars at the armistice of Dresden. He 
admitted Talma to his intimacy and friendship. He caused the- 
atres to be attached to all the imperial residences ; and during 



384 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

the Empire alone, forty-five tragedies and seventy-nine comedies 
were enacted in the palaces of the Tuileries, St. Cloud, Fontaine- 
bleau, Malmaison, Compiegne, Trianon and the Elysee. 

For many years Napoleon cherished the project of giving a 
constitution to the Com^die Frangaise, and of thus conferring 
upon the company a permanent organization. For various rea- 
sons, he never took the plan seriously into consideration, till af- 
ter the disaster of Moscow, in 1812, when he found himself, for 
the second time, at his head-quarters in the Kremlin. His chief 
anxiety now was to sustain the courage and hopes of France, and 
for this purpose he aimed at appearing, amid the ruins of the 
capital of the Czars, to have both the time and the spirit to at- 
tend to matters of little or no national importance. He thus 
signed, at the Kremlin, a decree regulating the duty on lUyrian 
lead, and one establishing a warehousing tax in favor of the docks 
of Trieste ; he ordered the construction of a theatre for the sol- 
diers, upon the still smoking ruins of Moscow. But the most re- 
markable of these ordinances was that by which, in the midst of 
wreck, blood and desolation, he fixed the duties, privileges and 
responsibilities of the actors and actresses of the Comedie Fran- 
paise. This document, containing one hundred articles, was dis- 
cussed at length by Napoleon and Marat during the autumn spent 
in Moscow. It was published in the Moniteur, on Napoleon's 
return from Russia, in December of the same year. It still gov- 
erns the action of the theatre and its company, and has contrib- 
uted to make them what they are — beyond possible competition 
the first dramatic establishment in Europe. The " societaires," 
members for life, and the " pensionnaires," members upon a sa- 
lary and candidates for life-membership, take infinite pride in 
the Decree of Moscow, and would hardly exchange the considera- 
tion and position it has given them, for a patent of nobility or a 
liberal investment in the national funds. In 1813, the members, 
in order to acquit their obligations, voted the purchase of three 
horses of pure blood for the service of Napoleon's armies. 



THE DECREE OF MOSCOW — TALMA. 385 

As Napoleon left Paris for the Russian campaign, an epigram- 
matist gave utterance to a prediction which, was in accordance 
with the despondency and discouragement of the people. He 
said: " ]!^apoleon will lose the Grand Army for the satisfaction 
of signing a decree at Moscow." ^ When, therefore, the intelli- 
gence was received of his Majesty's theatrical signature in the 
midst of the horrors of conflagration and ruin, the indignation of 
Europe found vent in a rain of sarcasms and maledictions. "A 
decree from Moscow," exclaimed Le Correspondant de Hamburg, 
"upon the French comedians! We admire, sire, that force of 
genius, that heroic insensibihty which permits you to busy your- 
self with the concerns of a dozen actors, in the midst of the most 
fearful disaster ever inflicted upon a nation by the wrath of 
offended heaven !" 

The principal performers who shed lustre upon the stage 
during Napoleon's time were Talma, Lafon, Fleury, St. Prix ; 
M'lles Mars, Duchesnois and Georges. A few words upon the 
nature of their talents and the achievements of their lives are 
due to artistes of such just celebrity. 

Fraiigois-Joseph Talma was born at Paris, in 1763, on the 
anniversary of the birth of Moliere. His father and uncle were 
dentists ; he was intended to succeed them in their profession, 
and received, in that view, a thorough education at one of the 
first seminaries of Paris. He was studious and appeared am- 
bitious, though he manifested no particular bent towards any 
special pursuit. At one of the public exhibitions at his school, 
he performed a part in a tragedy entitled Tamerlane, written 
by the principal of the institution ; his emotion was such that 
his voice failed him, and he was carried off the stage in a par- 
oxysm of grief. On quitting college, he applied himself to the 
study of medicine ; but scandalized his uncle, at whose house 
he lodged, by a habit of mounting upon the dinner table, and 
reciting Moliere to the water-carrier and the cook. So young 

1 Micbaud, Hist, de Napoleon, iii. 440. 

49 



386 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Talma was sent off to his father, now exercising his profession 
at London. He here joined a company of French amateurs, and, 
acquiring the English language with facility, he frequented the 
theatres where Shakspeare was represented. He attended assid- 
uously the performances of John Kemble and of Mrs. Siddons. 
Through his father, he made the acquaintance of a distinguished 
anatomist, with whom he practised dissection ; he also studied the 
relations of the passions with the muscles, and inquired into the 
laws which connect emotion with the features. 

At the age of twenty-one, he returned to Paris, and on the 
21st of November, 1787, he made his first appearance upon the 
stage, in the tragedy of Mahomet, the bill of the Comedie Fran- 
(jaise simply stating, without giving any name : " A new actor 
will make his debut in the character of Seide." The young 
stranger interested the audience by his penetrating voice, his 
sombre physiognomy, and his courageous deviation from the clas- 
sic traditions, in passages where it is safer to trust to inspiration 
than to memory. Still the critical authorities hesitated before 
pronouncing an opinion, and Talma was obliged to fight his way, 
slowly, and without assistance from others. He was engaged at 
the Comedie upon a salary of twelve hundred francs a year ; he 
played any and all characters, filling, at slight notice, parts left 
vacant by indisposition. But he could not hope for distinction, 
unless he could "create" a character, and it was unlikely that 
any author would intrust him with the responsibihty of an impor- 
tant original delineation. But he was unexpectedly served in this 
matter by St. Phal, the leading tragedian, who declined studying 
the character of Charles IX., in Ch^nier's tragedy of that name. 
Ch^nier at once gave the part to Talma ; and the result justified 
the choice. Talma procured a portrait of Charles IX., and em- 
ployed the several weeks that the rehearsals lasted in contempla- 
tion of the royal physiognomy, penetrating himself with its ex- 
pression, its features, its manner. "At the performance," writes 
one of his biographers, " the tragedy was not on the boards of a 



TALMA A REPUBLICAN. 387 

theatre, but in the halls of the Louvre. How could one avoid 
yielding to the illusion, when, after hearing the murderous alarm- 
bell of St. Germain I'Auxerrois, Charles IX., pursued by the 
bloody phantom of Coligny, uttered cries so lamentable, cast 
about him glances so full of agony and horror, and fell trembling 
and desperate under the anticipated maledictions of posterity, 
that it was not only the form and features of the king of the St. 
Bartholomew that the spectator saw before his eyes, but his 
voice, his soul, his crime and his remorse!" 

The dramatists now applied themselves to the production of 
works worthy the interpretation of the magnificent innovator. 
Legouv^ gave him "Neron," Arnault "Blanche et Montcassin," 
Lemercier " Plaute." Duels translated for him Macbeth and 
Othello, and remodeled his version of Hamlet. Every author 
that wrote for him remained his constant friend through life ; 
Talma retained their affection by his efforts in their behalf and 
his interest in their success. On the first night of Soumet's 
" Clytemnestre," he said. " I tremble for two." 

The Revolution divided the Comedie Frangaise into two camps. 
Those who had acquired distinction, and had become accustomed 
to privilege and the favor of the court, remained royalists ; those 
who had everything to gain and nothing to lose, espoused the 
cause of the republic. Talma was the leading Girondin of the 
revolutionary party ; he avoided the Terrorists, though by so 
doing he compromised his safety. Marat visited his house one 
night uninvited ; upon his departure, Dugazon, a fellow-actor, 
caused perfumes to be burned upon a shovel to clear the air. 
Talma nearly suffered death for this untimely jest, for "L'Ami 
du Peuple " denounced him the next day. Like his comrades, his 
poverty was at this period extreme, and when the performance 
announced for the evening required but little effort and would 
permit an insufficient meal, he dined abstemiously upon bread 
and grapes. At other times he frequented a humble restaurant 
in the Rue de la Michodifere, where he made the acquaintance, 



388 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON, 

through a professor of mathematics who knew them both, of a 
young man of pale face and slender proportions, some years his 
junior. They often dined together, and conversed upon their 
respective aspirations : the one aiming at scenic renown, the 
other at military glory. These two young men were the first 
of actors and the first of modern conquerors — Talma and Jfapo- 
leon. 

With the restoration of social order, Talma, delivered from 
the denunciations of the Terror and the misgovernment of the 
Directory, applied himself ardently to the serious and sustained 
studies which made him the Roscius of his age. His talents were 
constantly improving, and his hold upon his audience increased 
with his years ; his last characters in Charles YI. and L'Bcole 
des Yieillards — the latter a comedy in verse — were his best. ISTo 
art could surpass these marvellous impersonations, and the actor, 
having attained the zenith of tragic renown, sickened and died 
at the age of sixty-three. He expired without a struggle, 
though after a distressing illness, muttering disjointed phrases, 
among which could only be distinguished the words, " Yoltaire ! 
like Yoltaire !" His funeral was attended by a throng of per- 
sons distinguished for their talents and virtues ; the concoui'se of 
mourners evinced the esteem in which he was held by the court 
and the city. The actors wore mourning for him for forty days. 

It was said of Talma, that his head and profile presented the 
Greek type in all the purity of an Athenian medallion struck in 
the time of Pericles. His physiognomy, completely under his 
control, was naturally melancholy, but became, at will, terrible or 
placid, winning or repellant. His voice was penetrating and mag- 
netic, and he possessed the art of speaking audibly in an extinct 
whisper. His gestures were the perfection of grace ; his panto- 
mime, whether illustrative of the text, or itself supplying the 
place of language, was singularly expressive. He was the first 
to bestow attention upon the art of costume, consulting medals, 
statues, manuscripts, black letter folios, for authority upon the 



TALMA AND NAPOLEON. 389 

accessories of dress, armor and drapery. He never had a rival 
u]3on the French stage. His immediate predecessor, Lekain, 
who enjoyed an immense reputation, was unequal and incom- 
plete. Perfect in the delineation of the more violent passions, 
he failed in representing them when in repose, in rendering 
passages of transition from agitation to tranquillity, and in 
descriptive recitation. In all this Talma was as effective as in 
the more startling features of his art. The French classic stage 
is indebted to him for the present system of dramatic decla- 
mation. It was the custom previously to make both the sense 
and the punctuation subordinate to a distinct coupling of the 
rhymes. Each alexandrine fell in cadence, and the duty of the 
actor was especially to impress upon the ear of the listener the 
rhyming syllables at the end of it. Talma reversed this habit, 
and made it the object of his delivery to preserve the sense even 
if he somewhat slurred the rhyme. He breathed at the pauses ; 
his predecessors had always taken breath at the ends of the 
lines. This avoidance of the jingle of rhyme was a happy inno- 
vation ; and in thus improving an art intimately connected with 
oratory and elocution. Talma is hkely to exert a more durable 
influence upon literature and rhetoric than usually falls to the 
lot of an actor, however great he may be. 

Throughout the Consulate, Talma remained on terms of inti- 
macy with Bonaparte, being habitually present at his levees, 
upon a footing with Monge and Lagrange. When Napoleon be- 
came Emperor, he thought it prudent to cease his attendance at 
the palace. He was summoned, however, to the Tuileries, on 
the morning of the day when the authorities were to compliment 
the Emperor upon his elevation to the throne. His Majesty com- 
pelled several deputations of government functionaries to wait 
without, while he took the tragedian to task for alleged exagge- 
rations in the performance of Nero. On another occasion, speak- 
ing to Talma of his tendency to overact, he said: "You visit me 
often, Talma ; you see around me princes who have lost their 



390 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

dominions, princesses who have lost their lovers, kings who have 
lost their thrones ; you see generals who aspire to crowns ; you 
see disappointed ambitions, eager rivalries, terrible catastrophes ; 
you see ajBflictions exposed to the public view, and you may guess 
at many sorrows nursed and hidden in the heart. Here is tra- 
gedy, certainly ; my palace is full of it ; and I myself am assur- 
edly the first tragedian of my time. Do you ever see us lift our 
arms in the air, study and prepare our gestures, take attitudes 
and affect airs of grandeur ? Do you hear us utter cries and 
shouts ? Certainly not ; we speak naturally, as every one speaks 
when urged by interest or inspired by passion. So have done 
before me the various persons who have occupied the attention 
of the world, and like me have played tragedies upon the throne. 
Here are examples to meditate upon !" 

Again, one morning after the performance of "La Mort de 
Pompee," Napoleon said : "I am not entirely satisfied ; you use 
your arms too much ; monarchs are less prodigal of gestures ; 
they know that a motion is an order, and that a look is death ; 
so they are sparing of both motions and looks. For instance, 
how often has it happened to me to awaken to activity three hun- 
dred guns, by a sign of my little finger !" Talma profited by the 
advice thus given ; and if the second part of his career showed a 
marked improvement upon the first, the criticisms of Napoleon 
may be supposed not to have been without influence in inducing 
reflection and reformation. During the Revolution and under the 
Directory, he had been clamorous, turbulent, demonstrative ; 
under the Consulate and Empire, he became simple, impressive, 
majestic. He produced his eff"ects by more natural and legiti- 
mate means. "No one but Talma," wrote Madame de Stael, 
"ever attained that degree of perfection in which art is combined 
with inspiration, reflection with spontaneity, reason with genius." 

At the Congress of Erfurth, where the company of the Come- 
die played to an audience of kings. Talma carried the bill for the 
evening, every morning to the Emperor. He was never detained 



TALMA AND KEMBLE — LAFON. 391 

without, being always admitted to the table or the dressing-room 
of his Majesty. On one occasion, as he was entering unchal- 
lenged, the King of Saxony, who had penetrated no further than 
the antechamber, said to him, "Do tell the Emperor that I am 
waiting !" 

Talma was a good English scholar, and when writing to per- 
sons who understood the two languages, would employ them both 
indiscriminately. The following passage is from a letter written 
by him to Mr. Kemble, and dated in 1814, just after the return 
of the Boui'bons : 

.... " Le roi a d'excellentes intentions, des lumieres et un 
caractere ferme, mais que nous sommes poor and miserable ! 
Adieu, mon cher Kemble, mon plus grand desir est de vous voir, 
et de shake hands with yoix. Adieu, a vous de coeur. 

"Talma. 

" My best repects to Mrs. Siddons." 

Talma was twice married : once to a courtesan, " capable by 
her talents of being a second Madame Roland, had she led an 
honorable life,"^ and by whom he had two sons, baptized Charles 
IX. and Henry VIII. ; and again in 1802, after being divorced 
from his first wife, and after her death by grief in consequence, 
to Madame Petit- Vanhove, the widow of a ballet-master, and 
herself a member of the Comedie Fran^aise. Napoleon held Ma- 
dame Talma in profound aversion ; he would never see her play 
when he could avoid it. She survived her husband, and at the 
age of sixty, became, by a third marriage, Madame la Comtesse 
de Chalot. 

Lafon, the son of a physician of Bordeaux, and distin- 
guished early in life for his success in rhetorical exercises and 
his passion for poetry, the author of a tragedy at the age of 
sixteen, a truant from home, a soldier, a strolling actor, and a 
prot6g6 of Barras, appeared for the first time at the Comedie 
FranQaise, in the year 1800, when twenty-five years old. He 

1 Soc. Frangaise sous le Directoire, S45. 



392 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

captivated and subjugated the town by the magnificent warmth 
of his manner, the tumultuous pomp of his diction, and the heroic 
fervor of his passion. His southern ardor atoned for his Medi- 
terranean accent, and he became the idol of the ladies, through 
his convincing and irresistible style of paying court and professing 
admiration. Talma prudently withdrew for a while, tiU the bril- 
liant Gascon should have run his brief career. Lafon remained 
a favorite, however, for a quarter of a century, and his presence 
was really beneficial to Talma, by furnishing him a direct and 
obvious contrast. Talma was epic, erudite, classic, solemn ; La- 
fon was audacious, enthusiastic, impulsive. Talma was all con- 
centration, Lafon all expansion. "Women of the world and the 
court found Talma wanting in sensibility ; while women of a sen- 
timental or serious turn thought Lafon superficial and wanting 
in earnestness. Lafon, when speaking of Tahna, never called 
him by name ; he expressed his meaning by saying "I'autre ;" 
" the other one." 

Fleury was a remarkable instance of the triumph of patient 
and determined application over natural and apparently insur- 
mountable defects. Without attractions of either form or face, 
embarrassed by a short breath and a halting gait, he became, af- 
ter the retirement of M0I6, the first light comedian and the most 
finished and courtly stage roue among the imperial company. 
He has never been replaced, as a representative of the manners, 
deportment and tone of the elegant society of the old regime. 

During the Reign of Terror he had been thrown into prison, 
together with all the prominent actors of the day, and was there 
in imminent danger of death. The Count de Perigord, likewise 
in durance, often met Fleury in the gloomy galleries of their dun- 
geon, and never failed to make him a low bow, at the same time 
sajung, " How does your Majesty do ?" — ^referring to his famous 
performance of the character of Frederic the Great. "In- 
stantly," said the count, who often afterwards related the inci- 
dent, " the King of Prussia stood before me such as we have seen 



MADEMOISELLE MARS. 393 

him in the "Two Pages," and such as he was at Potsdam two 
years before his death ; his back bent, but with imposing car- 
riage nevertheless, with the same air, the same play of counte- 
nance. And this total change was effected in a few seconds, in 
a damp prison, by the light of a grated casement, and where a 
turnkey might at any moment interrupt our dramatic entertain- 
ment by marching us off to death. The mental firmness of the 
man, which permitted him to exercise these faculties in the midst 
of the most imminent danger, seemed to me still more worthy of 
admiration than the powers of the actor." Prince Henry of Prus- 
sia shed tears at what seemed the resuscitation of his brother, 
and on one occasion presented Fleury with a jeweled snuff-box 
bearing the portrait of Frederic the Great. 

St. Prix — originally a sculptor— was an actor of towering sta- 
ture, of noble mien, and strongly characterized features. His 
voice was a deep and guttural bass, eminently suited to the walk 
to which his physical development condemned him. No actor 
could better depict the jealousy and remorse of Cain, in La Mort 
d'Abel ; none was more suited to the Cimbrian soldier, in Ma- 
rius. The austere virtue of the Grand Master in Les Templiers, 
the imposing sanctity of the high priest in Athalie, the majesty 
of Agamemnon, the stoic dignity of Seneca, have never found 
since his death so capable an interpreter. With more depth of 
soul and more control over the tenderer chords of the human 
heart, St. Prix would have been justified in disputing the tragic 
sceptre with Talma himself. 

M'Ue Hippolyte Boutet Mars, the natural daughter of the 
" pathetic comedian" Monvel and Madame Mars, a provincial ac- 
tress — whose southern accent condemned her to play to none but 
Gascon or Languedocian ears — was born at Versailles, in 1778. 
Her father divined her dramatic capabilities at an early age, 
and placed her upon the stage of the Montansier theatre when 
fifteen years old. M'Ue Contat, the first actress of the epoch, 
took her into her affection, aided her by her counsels, and upon 

50 



394 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

the re-organization of the Comedie Fran^aise, obtained her ad- 
mission as a member for life. Like Talma, M'lle Mars under- 
took and effected a refoi'mation in the traditions of her art. She 
found that it was the habit of the stage to idealize comedy as 
well as tragedy. While she recognized the propriety of clothing- 
poetic thoughts, expressed in poetic language and illustrating 
the master passions, in a garb befitting a theme so lofty, she 
considered that nature, society and every-day life should furnish 
comic artists with their models and their standards. M'lle Con- 
tat had somewhat sacrificed nature to dignity ; she was serious 
in her gaiety, and consulted a sort of distant, unbending pro- 
priety even in her moments of passion. M'lle Mars lowered the 
tone of comedy to a point where the stage held the mirror up 
to nature ; and in achieving this reform, she conferred a lasting 
benefit upon her art. 

Possessing a voice of inimitable sweetness, a delivery ren- 
dered pleasing by a peculiar saccade acquired in her efforts to 
avoid contracting her mother's accent, a scrupulous purity of pro- 
nunciation, features of extreme mobility, an attractive person, 
graceful and winning manners, an infallible memory, and great 
fondness for study, M'lle Mars was endowed with all the acces- 
sory qualities necessary to sustain her unrivalled native talent. 
She was the first comedienne of her time, and her retirement left 
a void, difficult, if not impossible, to fill. 

M'lle Mars, though not strictly beautiful, inspired many ar- 
dent passions. At the outset of her career, an incident occurred 
which filled the rest of her life with that species of interest which 
springs from an unexplained mystery. She was playing, night 
after night, a comedietta entitled Brueis and Palaprat — one 
which required her to wear upon her finger a diamond ring. At 
this period of her life she possessed no jewels, and consequently 
wore the glass diamond set in brass which the stage-manager 
presented to her, as the performance commenced. One night, 
in place of the spurious brilhant, he brought her a blue velvet 



THE MYSTERIOUS RING. 395 

case containing a note and a diamond ring. Tlie note was thus 
conceived : 

"The ring which M'Ue de Beauval wears upon her finger is 
worthy neither of her nor of you. Accept this one, madame, with- 
out hesitation for the present, without apprehension for the 
future. It conceals no profane intent, no culpable desire. It is 
offered to the artiste alone, not to the woman. He who sends 
it will remain through life the most obscure and unknown of her 
admirers — a promise to which he engages himself upon his word, 
as a true and loyal gentleman." 

In spite of this assurance, M'Ue Mars would have refused 
the gift, but the curtain had risen, and an imperious call com- 
pelled her to put it upon her finger. The court jeweller, who saw 
it after the performance, estimated its value at 30,000 francs. 
Some years after, it was stolen, together with the accumulated 
treasures of the actress ; the police recovered nearly the whole, 
but the mysterious ring was not among them. 

Some years later, a baroness of the faubourg St. Germain 
gave a masked and fancy ball, to which M'lle Mars was invited. 
As she was on the point of leaving the festive scene, at three in 
the morning, a hand was placed upon her ai-m, and she found 
herself alone with a masked seigneur of the time of Charles VII. ; 
his gait, his dress and his manner betokened youth, elegance and 
nobility. "Calm yourself, my child," he said, "and do not open 
those inquisitive eyes so wide." Then changing his tone, and 
with a trembling voice, he asked, "Have you forgotten the third 
representation of Brueis and Palaprat?" " No ; how could I for- 
get it?" returned M'lle Mars. "Thanks, a thousand thanks," 
exclaimed the stranger ; "I hardly had a right to hope that you 
would remember it. But the other, the visible souvenir of that 
night, have you regretted its loss ?" "Certainly, I have regretted 
it, not on account of its value, but because there was a mystery 
about it well calculated to impress the imagination of a woman 
and an artiste." "And if you were to recover it, madame, would 



396 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

its recovery afford you gratification ?" " Yery great gratification, 
I assure you." "Above all, I sujDpose, if it were returned with 
its halo of romance and mystery." 

The stranger took the actress's hand in his and pressed it to 
his lips. She was on the point of beseeching him to throw off 
the disguise which had been for years so unsatisfactory to her 
and so oppressive to him, when he said in resolute accents : "A 
man of honor must sacrifice the most imperious desires of his 
heart to his word. I have made you a promise, madame, and 
whatever it may cost me, I shall remain what I have been, the 
most unknown of your admirers. Adieu. We shall meet no 
more !" M'Ue Mars, too violently agitated to pursue the retreat- 
ing phantom, sank into a chair ; on collecting her thoughts, she 
found upon the finger where she was wont to wear it, the ring 
of Brueis and Palaprat. The donor remained forever a mystery ; 
she never saw his face nor learned his name. It is probable that 
he admitted no one to his confidence, for the secret has not since 
transpired. 

On the occasion of a review in the court of the Tuileries, one 
Sunday morning, Napoleon perceived M'Ue Mars in the crowd, 
looking on. He spurred his horse through the piquet of soldiery, 
and said to her, " So you have come to return the visits we have 
so much pleasure in paying you at the theatre ?" She remained 
faithful to the Emperor in adversity, and suffered persecution in 
consequence. The first time that she performed after the return 
of Napoleon from Elba, she expressed her delight by wearing a 
profusion of violets in her hair, at her waist, in her bosom. On 
her first appearance after the restoration of Louis XVIII., the 
public, unwiUing that an actress should exhibit stronger political 
constancy than themselves, called upon her during the third act 
of Tartufe, to renounce the Emperor and acknowledge the King. 
" Cry Yive le Roi !" shouted the veterans of the orchestra stalls, 
whose memory and whose antecedents told them how easy was 
apostasy. "Make her cry Vive le Roi," shouted the renegades 



M'LLE DUCHESNOIS. 397 

of the pit. M'lle Mars remained calm during the passage of the 
tempest. She then employed a stratagem to escape further an- 
noyance : "Why, gentlemen," she said, "I have cried Vive le 
Roi !" This was untrue, but it allayed the disturbance, and no 
subsequent disorder marked her career. She died at the age of 
seventy-one, the last of the grand school of comediennes. 

M'lle Catherine Rafin, better known under her assumed name 
of Duchesnois, was born near Valenciennes, in 1777. In the 
midst of poverty and ignorance, she evinced a marked literary 
tendency ; her language indicated a superior taste. At the age 
of twenty, she played, as an amateur, the character of Palmyre 
in Mahomet. The performance was for the benefit of the poor ; 
the receipts purchased five hundred suits of winter clothing. She 
soon came to Paris, and endeavored to obtain the means of ap- 
pearing before a metropolitan audience. Chaptal, the Minister 
of the Interior, positively refused her the necessary authorization 
to play at the Comedie Fran^aise, on account of her repulsive 
ugliness. Madame Lebrun, the first woman admitted to the Aca- 
demy of Fine Arts, and Madame Montesson, interested them- 
selves actively in her behalf. The latter invited two hundred 
persons to an entertainment at her house, at which M'lle Duches- 
nois was to read the character of Ph^dre ; she obtained the pro- 
mise of Chaptal and Madame Bonaparte that they would attend 
the performance. Madame Lebrun arranged the hair and the 
toilet of the plain, angular, bony little woman, who dared, in the 
face of such physical disadvantages, to aspire to the tragic scep- 
tre. She placed the lamps in positions which should embellish, 
if possible, her who so much needed scenic illusion. M'lle Du- 
chesnois read Racine's verse in a manner which dissipated every 
prejudice conceived against her, and Chaptal, upon the formal 
demand of Josephine, signed an order for her d^but at the Come- 
die Fran9aise. Josephine gave her a wardrobe consisting for the 
most part of India goods richly embroidered, and a superb set 
of topazes which had been presented to her by the Portuguese 



398 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

ambassador. M'Ue Ducliesnois was sent to perform a few nights 
at the theatre of Versailles, in order to accustom her to the stage. 
Finally, in August, 1802, she made her first appearance in Paris, 
as the heroine of the tragedy of Phbdre. 

The performance recalled the best days of Clairon and Du- 
mesnil, whom the habitues of the orchestra never hoped to see 
replaced. The monarch of the feuilleton, Geoffroy, wrote thus 
of the debutante, in the Journal des D^bats : "Familiarized by 
experience with tragic effects, fortified by habit against the illu- 
sions of the stage, and more prompt to seize the ridiculous than 
to apj)reciate the pathetic, I was wont to defy all scenic emotion ; 
I thought myself superior to common weakness. I owe it to 
M'Ue Duchesnois that I know it was not my fault, if I was never 
moved ; she has given me a better opinion of myself ; I feel that 
my heart was not hard, but that my taste was difficult. I sur- 
prised myself with pleasure giving way to sensations altogether 
new ; involuntary tears have reestablished my claim to sensi- 
bility, and I am truly proud of my defeat. My opinion, then, 
upon M'lle Duchesnois, is that of Louis XV. upon Lekain : She 
made me weep — I who weep but seldom." 

The critic did not remain faithful to his first impressions, 
however, and shortly after penning the passage we have quoted, 
perhaps the most eulogistic he ever wrote, he threw up his alle- 
giance and deserted to M'lle Georges. During the weeks of dis- 
order and tumult which followed the debut of this, her dazzling 
rival, Duchesnois had for partisans the Polytechnic School, and 
the students of the Law and Medical Colleges ; Madame de Mon- 
tesson, who, though a Bourbon, possessed the confidence, and the 
esteem of the First Consul, continued to afford her encourage- 
ment. In defiance of the evident partiality of Napoleon for M'lle 
Georges, and in spite of the malevolence of the now hostile 
Geoffroy, she continued the struggle with desperate earnestness. 
It was the interest of the government to direct the activity 
and the spirit of the youth of Paris into a field where it could 



M'LLE GEORGES. 399 

spend itself harmlessly, and the cabals and the riots which at 
this period disgraced the stage, the pit, and the press, received 
no hindrance from the authorities or the police. 

Catherine Rafin now assumed the name of Josephine Duches- 
nois, acknowledging, by her choice of a Christian name, the aid 
she had received at her debut from Madame Bonaparte. Both 
she and M'Ue Georges were admitted by the Comedie as members 
for life, in March, 1804. M'lle Duchesnois achieved the greatest 
triumph that an actress can obtain — her plainness of feature dis- 
appeared in the glow of inspiration with which her countenance 
became illumined. In spite of her physical disadvantages, she 
won many victories over M'lle Georges, whose beauty was posi- 
tively without a rival. Duchesnois remained the tragic queen 
of the French classic stage, while Georges played truant in Rus- 
sia, and on her return, devoted her talents to the interpretation 
of the modern romantic drama. 

M'lle Georges was born towards the close of the last century, 
and before the end of Louis XVI. 's reign. Her father was leader 
of the orchestra at the theatre of Bayeux, a village of Normandy. 
One evening, during the performance of La Belle Termiere, he 
was observed to receive a message, and straightway to lose all 
control over his instrument, and to plunge his band and the 
actors upon the stage into the direst confusion. He finally threw 
down his violin, disappeared beneath the footlights, and wildly 
ran home. The audience obtained a clue to the explanation of 
his conduct from the following words spoken by the trombone to 
the oboe : " Both mother and child are doing well." This, how- 
ever, was premature ; and when the orchestra, upon the fall of 
^the curtain, repaired to the house of their leader to serenade 
the young mother — the soubrette of the company — they found 
the event they had supposed concluded, still in process of accom- 
plishment. M'lle Marguerite Georges Weimer, the most beau- 
tiful, and the second, if not the first, tragic actress of the Empire, 
was born in the midst of this grotesque and untimely harmony. 



400 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

The fairies which preside at the births of the illustrious, we are 
told, invoked upon Marguerite, now sleeping the first human 
sleep, all the gifts that mortals can desire — beauty, goodness, 
majesty, generosity, health, prosperity, longevity ! She was bap- 
tised, the next morning, at the church of St. Bxup^re. 

Her father soon became manager of the theatre of Amiens, 
and Marguerite, at the age of five years, was the pet of that por- 
tion of the public that affects precocity and infant phenomena. 
She was the dairy-maid in "Les Deux Chasseurs et la Laitiere ;" 
her childish stature compelled her to replace, upon her baby 
head, the traditional milk-pail by a sugar-bowl. The public 
would have spoiled her with flowers, sweetmeats and indulgence, 
had nature intended gifts so magnificent to be exhausted during 
immaturity. She became, when fifteen years old, the pupil of 
M'lle Raucourt, then without a rival at the Comedie Frangaise. 
This person lived in the cottage lately occupied by Madame Tal- 
lien, in the AUee des Veuves, and here she gave a daily lesson to 
Marguerite Weimer. The latter, after fourteen months' study, 
obtained from the Minister of the Interior the necessary authori- 
zation for her d^but at the theatre ; and the evening of the 27th 
of November, 1802, was fixed for the occasion, Clytemnestra be- 
ing the character to be sustained. The supremacy of the tragic 
scene was now held by M'lle Duchesnois, whose first appearance 
had taken place some months previously. Her admirers thronged 
to her support on this eventful evening, and partisan feeling ran 
high between the two camps. The scene has been thus de- 
scribed : 

" The audience was attentive and agitated. For many days, 
the literary and dramatic public had talked of little else than 
M'lle Raucourt's pupil. ' A marvel ! ' said one party. ' We'll see 
that ! ' said the other. The latter were Duchesnois' admirers, and 
they brought no bravos in their clenched hands. In the orches- 
tra stalls were those rows of bald heads that so terrify debutants ; 
heads that have forgotten their by-gone enthusiasm, and would 



DEBUT OF M'LLE GEORGES. 401 

rather abjure tlieir own youth than smile at youthful talent ap- 
pearing before their aged sight ; exacting old men who forfeit 
the respect that might be paid to their experience by the manner 
in which they treat inexperience. Obstinate veterans, discour- 
aging invalids, are they — claiming our regard, nevertheless, as 
the chevaliers of the past. In his curule chair sat the prefect 
of public opinion, the Aristarch of the Journal des Debats, the 
monarch of the feuilleton, the inflexible censor who caused Talma 
so many sleepless nights, the decisive, the redoubtable and re- 
nowned critic, Abbe Julien-Louis Geoffroy. He was an erudite, 
honest and indefatigable judge. He felt what he said, and he 
said what he meant. One of his errors was to recognize no talent 
without beauty ; he would have shut the door of the theatre to 
every actress not possessed of charms equal to her capacity. This 
preoccupation rendered him unjust towards M'Ue Duchesnois, 
the fire of whose soul burned with sufficient intensity often to 
transform her ugliness into beauty. 

" M'Ue Georges appeared. Before she spoke she had gained 
her cause. She might now lose it upon opening her lips, but her 
voice confirmed the effect of her personal splendors. The parti- 
sans of M'Ue Duchesnois adjourned the commencement of hosti- 
lities. The bald heads postponed the delivery of their opinion. 
They listened in a great measure with their eyes, and their shriv- 
elled lips simultaneously quoted Virgil : 

' Et vera incessu patuit dea.' " 

M'lle Raucourt encouraged her brilliant though docile scholar 
by loudly whispering from a stage-box, before each critical pas- 
sage, " Ferme, Georgine !" At the close of the tragedy, the pub- 
lic called for both pupil and professor, and Georgine led forth to 
the foot-lights the patient benefactress who was the first to dis- 
cern her genius, and had been alone in developing it. 

The feuilletonists were clearly dazzled by the debutante's lux- 
urious display of beauty. Geoffroy had discovered that happy 

51 



402 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

combination of mental and physical charms of which he had so 
long dreamed. He wrote as follows in the columns intrusted to 
his charge — the feuilleton of the Debats : "Preceded upon the 
stage by an extraordinary reputation for beauty, M'lle Georges 
appeared in every way to deserve it ; her countenance joins 
French grace to the regularity and nobility of the Greek outline. 
Her form is that of the sister of Apollo, when surrounded by her 
nymphs, and overtopping them in stature, she walks upon the 
banks of the Burotas. Her whole form is a model for the pencil 
of Gu6rin.* Within this splendid body is a soul impatient to 
expand ; she is not a statue of Parian marble, but the Galatea 
of Pygmalion, fuU of warmth and life, and as it were oppressed 
by the throng of emotions now tumultuously awaking in her 
bosom." 

Such was her first debut ; Paris custom requires three. Her 
second took place in the arduous character of Amenai'de. Now 
commenced the struggle so famous in the annals of the French 
stage. Duchesnois and Georges collected their partsans. The 
battle was long and desperate ; it was opened with hisses, con- 
tinued with blows, and ended with small-swords and pistols. 
When the rival divinities played in the same tragedy, the two 
armies tore up the benches of the pit and hurled them at each 
other's heads. The honors of these demonstrations, said Geof- 
frey, belonged to the debutante ; the dust to Duchesnois. At 
the close of the fourth act of Phfedre, during which Duchesnois' 
cabal had been unusually fierce, Georges fainted and was dragged 
oflf the stage. The minister of the interior soon authorized her 
to assume all the characters of the tragic repertory, upon a foot- 
ing with Duchesnois ; she was admitted to the company as a 
member for life, and received an annual salary of 4,000 francs. 
This sum, then deemed adequate, would now be insignificant. 
The hostility of the two cabals gradually died away. 

* The portrait of M'lle Georges, upon the opposite page, is talien from a miniature in the possession of 
the actress, which was Icindly placed by her at the disposal of the designer. 




Drawn by J-Champa^ne 



11^^^ ©EOaSES 



M'LLE GEORGES AND NAPOLEON. 403 

The first protector of M'Ue Georges — we use the word in its 
primitive and paternal, and not its derived and scandalous, sense- 
— was the Polish prince Sappia. He possessed a yearly income 
of two miUion francs, and begged the young tragedienne to assist 
him in spending it. He furnished her a suite of rooms with ori- 
ental magnificence, stocking the drawers with cashmeres and the 
jewel-boxes with diamonds. She accepted the key to this mar- 
vellous establishment upon the prince's solemn declaration that 
no second key existed. 

Her first conquest was Lucien Bonaparte ; the orator was 
assiduous, impassioned, unsuccessful. He had a formidable rival 
in the person of his First Consular brother, who, one night after 
the performance of Andromaque, summoned Hermione to St. 
Cloud. Hermione went at midnight, and returned at dawn ; vic- 
torious, say the chroniclers, fallen, thought the public. The au- 
dience present two nights afterwards, at a representation at- 
tended by Napoleon, showed how perfect was its knowledge of 
events transpiring in high places, by the crash of applause it be- 
stowed upon the following line, spoken by Georges : 

" Si j'ai seduit Cinna, j'en seduirai bien d'autres." 

At this period some trivial circumstance rekindled the war- 
fare of the opposing factions. The adherents of M'lle Georges 
were called " Georgiens ;" the adverse party received the name 
of " Carcassiens," from the extreme thinness of M'lle Duchesnois, 
their leader. French gallantry and Parisian chivalry will hardly 
refer to this period for illustration of the national and traditional 
courtesy towards women. 

In 1808, M'lle Georges yielded to the solicitations and offers 
of the Russian ambassador, and accepted an engagement at the 
Imperial theatre of St. Petersburg. She remained four years in 
Russia, the idol of the Czar, kindly treated by the Empress- 
mother, and playing loto every evening with the Grand Duke 
Constantine. Upon the approach of Napoleon, she fled from St. 



404 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

Petersburg to Stockholm.. A year after, she left Stockholm for 
Brunswick, and was accompanied upon her perilous journey — 
for the country was in arms — by an escort furnished by Berna- 
dotte. Jerome Bonaparte received her, and hurried her off to 
Dresden, to take part in the theatricals of the armistice. Upon 
the fall of Napoleon, the Duke de Duras, then the intendant of 
the theatres, threatened her with exile, if she did not submit to 
the restoration. " Never," she replied ; " Yive I'Bmpereur !" 

She absented herself again for five years, striding over Europe 
from conquest to conquest ; at last, the Bourbon ministry consent- 
ed to reinstate her at the Com^die Fran^aise, but the influence 
of Duchesnois being still in the ascendant, she was fain to reign 
at the Odeon instead. This circumstance was a fortunate one ; 
for it was the first step in a chain of events which led her to ex- 
change tragedy for the drama, and to become the priestess of a 
contemporaneous literature. She left the classic for the romantic 
school, and made herself the interpreter of the vigorous and 
palpitating prose of Victor Hugo, Alexander Dumas, Alfred de 
Yigny, Soumet, MallefiUe, Liadieres, Fontan. No actress ever 
"created" so many masterpieces: Cleopatre, Jeanne d'Arc, 
Christine, Jeanne la Folle, Marguerite de Bourgogne, Lucr^ce 
Borgia, Marie Tudor, La Nonne Sanglante. Victor Hugo was so 
delighted with her rendering of his Lucretia Borgia, that he said 
of her : " Sublime as Hecuba, touching as Desdemona !" 

M'Ue G-eorges is still living, though she has disregarded the 
counsel of her friends and the admonitions of her own con- 
science, in persisting in maintaining a precarious hold of the 
sceptre she once wielded so proudly. At the age of seventy- 
two, she still performs from time to time the characters that 
she played in her teens. She gathers the elite of Parisian so- 
ciety, and still inspires the critics with glowing and impassioned 
periods. She is a valiant, though a solitary example of that 
splendid race of dramatic artistes who rose with the Revolution, 
and disappeared with the Empire. 



CHAPTER III. 

Features of Society under Napoleon — Mystification : the Princess Dolgoroucliy and the Insti- 
tute — Cafes under the Empire — Gastronomy — Conversation — Effect of Official Eulogy upon 
the French Language — Affectation and Exaggeration — The Soldier in Society — Epigrams, 
Jests and Libels — Moreau and the Legion of Honor — Napoleon's Mother and the Pope nick- 
named Napoleon and the Beet-root — Puns at the expense of Marie Louise — Desertion of 

Napoleon — The Race of Apostasy — Adhesion and Eenunciation — The allied Sovereigns at 
the Theatre — Defection in the Army — ^Napoleon's Fall hailed as a Deliverance — Conclusion. 

WE have barely space in this concluding chapter, to refer to 
a few of the more marked features which characterized 
Parisian society during the reign of Napoleon. One of the most 
noticeable of these was the taste for hoaxing, which pervaded 
the upper and even court circles. This amusement was called 
"mystification," and often trod upon the dangerous limits of 
practical jokes. A person by the name of Musson obtained a 
national reputation for his ingenuity in inventing, and his skill 
in executing, tricks and impositions of this sort. One example 
wiU suffice to give an idea of this intellectual recreation. 

The Russian Princess Dolgoroucky inhabited a house so 
small that she never could invite more than eight persons to 
dinner. One evening, as she was on the point of sitting down 
to table, M. de Lacepfede, the naturalist, was announced. She 
was not acquainted with the gentleman, but her interest in 
science enabled her to sustain an agreeable conversation. Soon 
after, Lalande, the astronomer, was introduced, and then Monge, 
the geometrician. In half an hour, a large delegation from the 
Institute had gathered in the confined parlors of the princess. 
The unfortunate lady found her situation a most distressing one, 



406 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

especially as the conversation had now centered on the subject of 
fossil ivory, upon which she knew little and cared less. At last, 
she was relieved by the arrival of one of her intimate friends, 
who, however, reproached her for having concealed from him 
the interesting fact which was the occasion of the present assem- 
blage. She then learned to her dismay, that the most distin- 
guished members of the Institute had been invited, in her name, 
to visit a cabinet of natural history which she had just received 
from her estates in Siberia, and which she intended to present to 
the Academy of Sciences. M. de Lac^pfede had come in the full 
hope of seeing the skin of a serpent one hundred and eighty feet 
long, and Lalande was confident that he should gaze at last upon 
the moon-stone. The discomfited philosophers stole gradually 
out of the house, and endeavored to prevent the story from ob- 
taining currency. Napoleon was seriously offended when he 
heard of it ; and the more so, from the fact that he had set his 
face against the practice of mystification. He never failed to 
reprimand any of his courtiers who were guilty of it, and in time 
the custom fell into disrepute. 

Cafes, estaminets, and restaurants were largely multiplied 
during the Terror and the Empire. Places of public resort had 
become necessary during the storms of the revolution. Persons 
interested in the progress of events met there to read the news- 
papers in print, and the libels in manuscript. Anarchy had ren- 
dered the Parisians gregarious, and they talked, read, thought, 
ate and drank in groups. The Caf6 des Trois Freres Proven- 
9aux, the Cafe Foy, the Cafe Tortoni, were founded during the 
ten years previous to Napoleon ; the Cafe Very, the Cafe Lem- 
blin, the Caf6 du Caveau, the Cafe des Mille Colonnes, the Cafe 
de la Rotonde, were established during the Empire. Their kitch- 
ens and cellars were under the control of the stewards and 
butlers of noble families ruined and dispersed by the revolution. 
Beauvilliers, who had once cooked for the Prince de Cond4, 
now cooked for a promiscuous paying company. The military 



GASTRONOMY — CONVERSATION. 



407 



element prevailed largely at these establishments, and the man- 
ners of the caf6s were visibly corrupted by an invasion of the 
manners of the camp. An officer of rank would not hesitate to 
take a newspaper from the hands of a citizen, without offering 
apology or expecting resistance. 

The First Consul was the most abstemious man of his time ; 
Cambaceres, the Second Consul, was the most gluttonous. The 
example of the latter was more followed than that of the former, 
and to exhibit prowess in digestion was as creditable as to dis- 
play valor in arms. Gastronomic wagers were constantly pro- 
posed and won; the most famous was that of one hundred 
dozens of oysters at a breakfast.^ One of the features of the 
pubUc festivities was the tossing of sausages and roast turkeys, 
from tribunes erected for the purpose, into the hungry and 
clamorous crowd. The pubUc thirst was quenched on these 
occasions from tuns and pipes of wine, flowing from morn to 
night at the municipal expense. 

The French language is so adapted to the requirements of 
easy and graceful conversation, that it possesses a term for the 
art, which no other language can adequately render— "la cau- 
serie." The Terror introduced into the vocabulary in daily use 
a spirit' of exaggeration and affectation ; this, the wars and ex- 
citements of Napoleon's reign fastened for a time upon society. 
The extravagant eulogies of the Emperor and the government, 
with which the journals were filled, and which were the burden 
of all official language, naturally rendered the language of com- 
pliment, and even that of ordinary intercourse, fulsome and 
bombastic. For years, the government organ, and in fact the 
newspapers generally, contained almost daily installments of such 
ecstasy as the following, the effect of which, by constant repeti- 
tion, may easily be imagined : 

"Happy the prince who may be worthily and yet truthfully 
lauded!— As the Christian's God is alone worthy of worship, 



1 M6m. d'un Bourgeois 



408 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

SO are you, sire, alone worthy of governing Franc —You are 
beyond human history and above admiration. — Let the whole 
earth be hushed ; let it listen in silence to the voice of Napo- 
leon. — Like the god of Day, who animates all nature, Napoleon 
spreads everywhere his beneficent influence. — God in his mercy 
chose Napoleon to represent him on the earth. — Who ever healed 
so many wounds, dried so many tears, ended so many calamities, 
and made so many people happy ? — With his nod he makes the 
globe quake. — Some god must have made the Code ! — The heart 
of Napoleon is sparing of the blood of his subjects. — Yes, sire, 
the late conscriptions have contributed to an increase in the pop- 
ulation! — When Grod had made Napoleon, he rested himself!" 

A natural consequence of the introduction of such habits of 
thought and expression was, that the speaker — one engaged in 
the most ordinary conversation — no longer sought to express in 
precise terms his meaning ; he sought, by asserting much more 
than he felt, to produce an impression upon the mind of the list- 
ener, even after the latter had eliminated a large portion of his 
emphasis, as due to the prevailing spii'it of exaggeration. Ladies 
were horror-stricken and dismayed at events which, twenty years 
before, would hardly have been startling ; they were enthusiastic 
and delirious over incidents which might possibly please but could 
hardly enrapture. Beauty was "celestial," and was told so to 
its face ; plainness was "frightful," the simplest error was "in- 
conceivable," the most trivial incident "monstrous." A gentle- 
man who denied himself to an unwelcome visitor, was "harrowed" 
at having been unfortunately out ; the visitor was, in his turn, 
" afflicted" at his ill fortune. A person could hardly make a se- 
ries of calls, without exposing himself to the remorse of plunging 
a large number of his friends into profound and poignant despair. 

The militaiy element prevailed so largely under Napoleon, 
that the manners of the parlor suffered by the contagion of the 
barracks. The bearing of the soldier in society was marked ra- 
ther by intrepidity than ease ; he aimed at forcing admiration 



THE SOLDIER IN SOCIETY. 409 

rather tu^a at winning it. His entrance into a room was noisy 
and boisterous ; his address to the lady of the house, long, verbose 
and martial. Instead of withdrawing at a moment when his de- 
parture would be unperceived, he again addressed the hostess 
noisily and conspicuously, thus drawing upon his exit the attention 
of the assembled company. Anecdote, accompanied with vigorous 
pantomime, supplied the place of conversation ; the conclusion 
of a story elicited apj)lause and laughter as hearty as though the 
narrator had been upon the stage. Unconsciously civilians as- 
sumed or caught this military energy and turbulence of style, of 
language and of bearing ; and a certain emphasis of manner suc- 
ceeded the subdued elegance of the old regime. This subsisted 
through the Empire, but disappeared under Louis XVIII. 

"We have often spoken in the course of this work, of the epi- 
grams and jests of the Parisians at the expense of Napoleon and 
his court. It is proper to give a few examples of these, as the 
Emperor was known to be exceedingly susceptible on this point, 
and as he bore witness, at St. Helena, to the terrible effects of 
ridicule. " The salons of Paris are really to be dreaded for their 
sarcasms," he said ; "and this because the greater part of them 
are replete with wit and well seasoned with salt. They are sure 
to make a breach in the object of their attack, and it is rare that 
you do not succumb beneath them."^ 

At the time of the creation of the Legion of Honor, General 
Moreau, a stern republican, held himself aloof from the Tuileries 
and enjoyed his own glory in isolation. He made merry, on one 
occasion, over Bonaparte's bestowal of rewards of merit. "My 
cook," he said, "has really excelled himself to-day ; I must en- 
courage the rogue with an honorary stew-pan." Bonaparte 
never forgave this stinging criticism. When M. de Lac^pede, the 
naturalist, was made Grand Chancellor of the Order, the public 
observed that a better man could not have been found to preside 
over a " menagerie ;" and the faubourg St. Germain expressed a 

1 Las Cases, ii. 115. 

62 



410 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

hope that the distinguished savant would add a new chapter to 
his late " Ti'eatise on Reptiles." 

At the time of the execution of the Duke d'Enghien, it was 
said that Madame M^re had implored her son to spare the un- 
happy prince ; and that, on being violently repulsed, she said, 
" Can you treat your mother thus V' He retorted in these words, 
added the story: "I have no mother ; I made myself." It is 
not probable that Napoleon ever uttered this bit of profanity ; it 
was doubtless invented by the wits to suit his character. The 
people gave to Napoleon's mother the offensive sobriquet of 
"la mere la Joie :" old mother Joy. Some one of them had 
borrowed and consulted a Latin Lexicon, and had translated the 
proper name, Lsetitia, as if it had been a common noun. 

When it was announced that Pope Pius YII. had consented 
to visit Paris for the purpose of crowning Napoleon, the students 
expressed their opinion in the form of a play upon words : " Le 
pape Pie se tache." This, which in its apparent sense, charges 
his Holiness with disgracing his name and mission, gives him, in 
the sliding pronunciation necessary to the double meaning, the ir- 
reverent appellation of Pape Pistache — Pope Peanut. Napoleon, 
in his weak dread of punsters, caused one of his poets, at this 
period, to compose a satire upon them, in which they were com- 
pared to harpies, defiling all they touch. The epigrammatists 
only railed the harder for this mythological invective, and the city 
laughed good naturedly at the sensitive and thin-skinned demigod. 

At the time of the scarcity and dearness of sugar — its price 
being nearly six francs a pound — and when Napoleon was en- 
couraging the cultivation of the beet-root, a caricature was pub- 
lished representing the Emperor breakfasting with his Majesty of 
England. King George was sweetening his coffee from an enor- 
mous and well supplied sugar-bowl ; while Napoleon, in an atti- 
tude denoting a violent effort of pressure, was endeavoring to 
squeeze into his cup the juice of an arid and refractory beet. 

Upon the marriage of Napoleon with Marie Louise, the 



CAEICATURES AND EPIGRAMS. 411 

University offered a gold medal to the author of the best Latin 
oration upon the alliance. M. Martainville, a popular rhymster, 
composed a song in French, which was intended, said the title, to 
compete for the prize. The lines were set to music, and were 
sung in one half of the private houses in Paris. The following 
couplet was invariably encored : 

" Oh ! she'll be the idol of the nation, 
— For I read so in a proclamation." 

The following paraphrase of a couplet referring to the dia- 
monds given by the city to the Empress, conveys very nearly the 
sense of the original : 

" The lady, I very much suspect, 
Likes the present better than the prospect."' 

It must always be a matter of wonder that Napoleon should 
have been so harassed by these witty gibes. But that he was 
keenly sensitive to the jests which involved a criticism or a re- 
proach, we have seen from his decrees exiling epigrammatists, 
and from his language at St. Helena, declaring that ' ' ridicule kills." 

The last phase of society under the empire was that present- 
ed by France, and especially by Paris, during the presence of the 
allied sovereigns, and upon the abdication of Napoleon. The 
allies entered the capital on the 31st of March, 1814. The mass 
of the people took but little part in the saturnaha of welcome 
extended to them by the partisans of the Bourbons, who rent the 
air with their acclamations, and whose wives waved their hand- 
kerchiefs before the conquerors, and even kissed their feet. The 
attitude of the people was that of hesitation, for the moment was 
one of uncertainty and transition. But no sooner was it evident 
that the coalition of sovereigns possessed the power to impose 
their will upon the country, and that Napoleon was no longer 
able to assert authority, to command obedience, or to reward 
servility, than the nation suddenly presented to the world the 



412 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

revolting spectacle to which, we have ah'eady alluded — a spectacle 
of abandonment of a fallen sovereign and prostration before a 
new regime, altogether unprecedented in history. Talleyrand 
received Alexander at his hotel, and pronounced in favor of the 
restoration of the Bourbons. At four o'clock in the afternoon, 
the proclamation of the allies that they would neither treat with 
Ifapoleon nor with any member of his family, and announcing 
their desire that the Senate appoint a provisional government, 
was posted by order of the prefect of police. Caulaincourt was 
the only man of Napoleon's multitudinous retinue, who ventured 
to visit Pai'is and speak in his behalf ; his appeal was of no avail, 
and he returned hopeless to Fontainebleau. 

The race of apostasy now commenced in earnest. The muni- 
cipality of Paris issued an edict, declaring the Bourbons "the 
legitimate masters of France ;" the Senate, convoked by Talley- 
rand, met to the number of thirty members out of one hundred 
and forty, and appointed a provisional government of five officers 
— four of whom had been functionaries under Napoleon. This was 
on the 1st of April ; on the 2d, the Senate pronounced Napoleon's 
fall, and liberated the army from the oath of fidelity. The next 
day, the Senate, with largely increased numbers, placed upon 
record, by a unanimous vote, their reasons for this step, which 
were none other than Napoleon's tyranny and ambition ! 

The Legislature followed the Senate, ratified its decisions, and 
promised adherence and concurrence. The University handed in 
its acceptance of the new regime ; its Grand Master, Pontanes, 
who, in a series of discourses, had declared Napoleon to be 
greater than Charlemagne, now pronounced the future Louis 
XVIII. superior to them both. The clergy, led by Cardinal 
Maury, the Institute — Napoleon's especial pride — the municipal- 
ity, the judiciary, every functionary in the realm who had a 
place to keep or an ambition to serve, either signed addresses 
by the gross, or paid homage in procession. While many con- 
tented themselves with expressing good will towards the dynasty 



THE RACE OF APOSTASY. 413 

now to be restored, others sougtit to forget or deny the past ; 
they cast reproach upon their by-gone fidehties, and to the spon- 
taneous graces of adhesion added the impressive act of recanta- 
tion. The Tribunal of Senhs expressed sentiments of attachment, 
which, it declared, it had been forced, for twenty years, to repress 
within its own bosom ; and the Supreme Court, upon its own 
testimony, had never once ceased to offer secret prayers for the 
downfall of the tyrant ! The provisional government issued an 
address to the army, in which it was said that "Napoleon was 
not a Frenchman, even ;" and in a proclamation to the people, 
characterized his administration as that of a barbarian king. 

The theatres sang cantatas to the glory of the coalition. At 
the Comedie Franpaise, a performance was given to the Czar of 
Russia and to the King of Prussia. It was with difficulty that 
the guards stationed at the door of Alexander's box could re- 
strain ladies from forcing themselves into his presence ; children, 
eluding the vigilance of the sentries, begged imperial kisses from 
his Majesty. A man sprang upon the stage, and attached to the 
curtain the Bourbon arms. A white veil was thrown over the 
Napoleonic eagle, which the pit now called a "turkey," and which 
they insulted accordingly. At every allusion which could be 
applied to the Czar, the audience rose and made the house ring 
with their plaudits. Alexander acknowledged the compliment 
by bowing with emphasis. A paper, containing a string of 
rhyming invectives against Napoleon, was thrown upon the stage, 
and Talma was compelled to read them, notwithstanding his 
well-known devotion to Napoleon. 

Russian and Prussian officers were the privileged guests at 
the festivities of the aristocracy. The insignia and emblems of 
the Bonapartes were effaced from the public buildings. An 
officer of the Legion of Honor tied his decoration of that order — 
given him by Napoleon — to his horse's tail, and dragged it 
through the streets. The busts of Napoleon were mutilated and 
defiled. The bronze statue of the Emperor upon the Column of 



414 THE COURT OF NAPOLEON. 

Austerlitz was taken down, and removed by order of the allies, 
after a vain attempt made by several ex-chamberlains to drag it 
from its pedestal with a team of twenty-four horses, and another 
to saw it through at the ankles. The press teemed with pamph- 
lets, libels, and aspersions. Chateaubriand pubhshed his " Bona- 
parte and the Bourbons," just before the entry of the allies ; this 
eloquent and powerful, though occasionally vehement, work was 
circulated with zeal by the wives of the royahsts. 

While, at Paris, the functionaries in the civil departments were 
thus deserting and renouncing the Emperor, the defection in the 
army at Pontainebleau was no less remarkable. The most eager to 
transfer their allegiance were those whose debts of honor towards 
Napoleon could only have been discharged by devotion to the 
last. Desertion became an epidemic, and spread with the celerity 
of a contagion. Marshals of France, Princes, Dukes, hurried 
away to acknowledge the Restoration. Marmont was already 
a zealous Bourbon ; Berthier collected signa,tures for the act of 
dethronement ; N"ey, Prince de la Moskowa and Due d'Elchingen, 
bore to Talleyrand at Paris the act of abdication which he had 
aided to draw from his fallen benefactor. Jourdan adopted the 
white cockade, and commended his example to the troops under 
his command. The National Guard assumed the white cockade, 
and lastly, the army, by order of the provisional government ; 
the navy was instructed to substitute the white flag for the tri- 
color. Napoleon, appalled by blows so stunning, and hopeless of 
retrieving fortunes so desperate, swallowed poison on the night 
of the 11th of April ; its efl&cacy had been impaired by time, 
however, and its effects were therefore but transitory. The next 
morning, Berthier, commander of the army of Pontainebleau, 
asked Napoleon's permission to visit Paris upon business of a 
private nature, engaging to be absent but a day. He went, but 
did not return. His adhesion to the Bourbons, as well for him- 
self as for his army, appeared soon after in the Moniteur. Napo- 
leon, now preparing for exile at Elba, was literally friendless and 



DESERTION OF NAPOLEON. 415 

alone ; with few unimportant exceptions, all had disappeared— 
from Talleyrand, the prime minister, to Constant, the valet-de- 
chambre. 

A work treating of society under the Empire would have 
been incomplete without this picture of its fall and dispersion. 
We have elsewhere said that the explosion of recantation and 
apostasy which attended Napoleon's decline, is in some degree 
to be considered as an extravagant, almost a grotesque, reaction 
after an unduly prolonged confinement. The country, finding 
itself at liberty to renounce him whom it had lately seemed 
to worship, made an unseemly and violent use of this, its first 
moment of independence. If there is any moral to be drawn 
from the fact that France hailed the fall of Napoleon with joy, 
and accompanied his flight to Elba with menace to his person and 
maledictions on his name, it is that the French people will not 
long submit to a jealous and unrelaxing tyranny. They had wel- 
comed the dictatorship of ISTapoleon, fifteen years before, as a re- 
lief from social anarchy, and as the least of two evils. As time 
progressed, all symptoms of disorder disappeared ; absolutism, 
rigidly applied and enforced, had worked a speedy and radical 
cure. But Napoleon continued to subject the nation thus reco- 
vered of its disorder, to the same system he had employed to 
combat the evil ; the physician persisted in administering to the 
convalescent patient the same remedies he had used in the crisis 
of the disease. Here was Napoleon's error — an error fatal and 
irreparable. His system was not progressive ; it was sullen, sta- 
tionary, inflexible. He exiled a woman early in the Consulate — 
and as if the world had not lived ten years in the meantime, he 
exiled another late in the Empire. There was no graduation, no 
adaptation, no relaxation ; iron he began and iron he ended. His 
despotic temper did not permit him to perceive that there are 
milder systems and gentler influences that may be often substi- 
tuted for the I'uder processes of force and compression. He 
chose to effect by might what another would have effected by 



■^ 



416 THE COUET OF NAPOLEON. 

persuasion. He seized the nation in liis relentless gripe, and 
maintained his hold till a power stronger than his own compelled 
him to abandon it. He had doubtless imagined that time and 
habit had moulded the people into a form that they would me- 
chanically retain even when the compulsory force was withdrawn. 
He had sought to reduce the nation as the ship-builder bends the 
ash, which pliantly assumes a shape and still faithfully preserves 
it. But Napoleon had labored upon a very different material. 
France is like a Damascus blade — elastic and readily yielding 
to pressure, and yet ever returning to its original form. Who- 
ever disregards its temper is sure to feel its edge. Napoleon's 
mistake was radical ; he was- always and everywhere a despot. 
He mastered the continent of Europe, but was himself destroyed 
by the recoil ; he mastered France, but his overthrow was hailed 
by the people as a deliverance. Such is the lesson taught by the 
incidents attending the fall of ISTapoleon : that a nation — and es- 
pecially the French nation — may yield transiently to tyranny 
and bow with apparent satisfaction to despotic control, and yet 
ujDon the day of reckoning, compensate for the servility of its 
submission, by the fervor of its apostasy and the vehemence of 
its renunciation. The descendants of Napoleon may make useful 
commentaries on this painful chapter in the history of the first 
of their race. 



THE END. 



